Those Who Wait
by kia maro
Summary: Sirius Black is not a patient man. Not now, not ever. Realizing his past is someone else's future doesn't make it easier. Lying low, waiting, preparing and stalling to make sure this other person's future happens, even if it means he can look forward to another twelve years in hell on Earth, Azkaban. Rating T to M.
1. 1994

**Author's note:**

**For reasons beyond me I've neglected this story for more than six months. I'm not exactly back on track, but writing is the best therapy I've tried yet. I've revised my already published chapters and re-publishes them now, together with a new chapter. The amazing and talented Donna10Girl has been my editor, or beta, as I should call her here. Her corrections and comments have really made my text stronger and better, and I'll be forever in her debt.**

**With a fair amount of encouragement (you know what I mean) I'll publish a new chapter once a week.**

**Love, Kia**

**Chapter 1**

**1994**

**Sirius**

Sirius Black is not a patient man. He does not believe in the saying "good things come to those who wait." Instead he has always lived by the motto "boredom comes to those who wait" and when he was a boy and a young man he made sure he was never bored. He was impulsive and reckless, and as a leopard can't change its spots, neither can Sirius become quite as composed and controlled as he sometimes wishes.

As a boy at Grimmauld Place he used to say or do something, anything to get a rise out of his younger brother. Sometimes he was found out and punished, but most often he found the physical pain worth the action. Winding Regulus up was good fun; playing nicely with Regulus, who most often wanted to practice some kind of undetectable, under age wizards' Dark Art, was not.

When Sirius came home after his first term at Hogwarts, he was punished within an inch of his life for being sorted into Gryffindor. He spent Christmas in bed, beaten and broken, actually asking Regulus politely to bring him food, just to survive, but still it was worth it. Befriending James Potter, Remus Lupin and even little, chicken-hearted Peter Pettigrew had been the best thing that ever had happened to him. Well, second best, but at that stage of his life his new friends pretty much guaranteed boredom was kept at bay.

Later, much later, Sirius found himself in the hell of Azkaban. To the impatient 21-year-old it was double hell. Designed to deprive the prisoners of all their happy memories, the only survival strategy possible was to wallow in unhappy thoughts and memories.

_I suspected Remus, but it was Peter who betrayed James and Lily. I can't protect Harry from here. I'm innocent. When my brother joined the Death Eaters I hated him, when I found out he was a double spy, he was already dead. I sent my lovely, lovely girl into the future. I have no idea when, or if I'll ever, ever see her again. Good, Bellatrix is here too…_

The last thought faded rather quickly, as the malice and spitefulness in it was remotely related to happiness. Over the years Sirius stopped himself from thinking about the girl as well, he didn't even dare to whisper her name at night. He knew that if the Dementors got hold of his memories of her, and took them, swallowed them, burned them, or whatever the nightmarish creatures did with the happiness hidden in the prisoners, he would go irreversibly insane and loose all ambition and desire to one day escape.

The other, double dimension of the hellish experience of the wizarding prison was, of course, waiting. Even though he was too terrified and depressed to be bored, it was waiting all the same. When Minister Fudge, on a whim, granted Sirius' polite request for a newspaper, his waiting became more focused than before. It became preparing, rather than waiting. Preparing for the day his Animagus form would be emaciated enough to slide through the bars of his cell on a day when a new prisoner had been brought in and kept the Dementors feasting on the new happiness in the three-cornered maze in the middle of the North Sea. And on a day the North Sea would be relatively calm. After twelve years the day came.

Sirius is at Remus' cottage. He is lying low, off the radar of both Death Eaters and the Ministry. He has the feeling Remus' cottage will be his haven more than once, Remus being the only one Sirius trusts, and Remus, once again, trusting Sirius. After having suppressed most feelings for years, Sirius is more or less drowning in them now. Anger, guilt, sorrow, denial, shock, longing… In short, most negative emotions under the sun. Hints of relief, calmness and love prevent him from going insane.

He has briefly considered going to London, to Grimmauld Place. He has found out it has been empty for eight years, since his mother's death, but the fact that his mother was the last living creature in his family home doesn't appeal to him. He still remembers her vile perfume clinging to every piece of fabric outside his own room, and he has a hunch that the portrait that was being painted the last time he was there, seventeen years ago, was something more than just narcissism on his mother's part. His eyes flick open when he sees the mounted elf-heads in his memories. No, he does not want to go there. He does not want to be alone. He has been alone enough for a lifetime.

Remus enters the room and sinks down in an armchair in front of the hearth. A fire is roaring, gradually warming Sirius. He has been cold for over a decade and the process is slow. He sits on the floor, closer to the fire than Remus does, and rests his back against the other armchair. Partly to be closer to the fire, partly because he can't really handle the plush furniture. The softness is suffocating to a man whose greatest luxury for twelve years has been being able to fall asleep, regardless of the material he rests on. Even Remus' threadbare carpet feels a little unsteady underneath Sirius' gaunt body.

"Sirius?"

Sirius hears himself growl in response. He focuses on his human personality and struggles to switch to a more versatile language than 'dog.'

"I'm sorry. Padfoot had been more wordy than I for a long time."

Remus watches him with more compassion than Sirius can handle. He looks into the fire, relishing the heat against his skin. His skin is tender and dry after countless baths, and he can't feel his hair that has been a constant, itching, heavy helmet of dirt on his head for as long as he can remember. He doesn't like his reflection in Remus' bathroom mirror, where it's far too easy to see exactly what his skull looks like. His eyes and cheeks are sunken on each side of his cheekbones. There were spots of grey in his beard before he shaved it off. There is even a strand of grey in his hair, but he keeps it shoulder length anyway. It helps to hide his face.

Remus sighs and Sirius ventures a glance at him. Remus looks, if not old, at least grown up and weary. The last time they spoke, before everything went to hell and Azkaban, Remus still had boyish features, as did Sirius. There is nothing boyish about the werewolf now, only angles and scars.

"How long have you known it was her, Remus?"

Remus meets his gaze with a confused expression, as if he doesn't know what Sirius means. He doesn't really answer the question when he speaks.

"Sirius, up until two days ago I believed you were the one who betrayed Lily and James. For twelve years I have tried to put you out of my mind, feeling the wolf in me baring his teeth every time I thought about you. When Harry told me he'd seen Peter on the map, our map, I spent a night trying to rethink everything, I even went to see Sybill Trelawney."

Sirius raises an eyebrow and the left corner of his mouth. Divination was always a subject for Remus' scorn during their Hogwarts days.

"Well, what would you have me do?" Remus blurts. "I could hardly discuss your possible innocence with Severus. Albus was not available, and Hagrid is… well, not very subtle. It's either/or with him, and I knew he became as convinced as I back when… When you were arrested. We suspected each other, you and me, didn't we? And then you spent twelve years knowing we were both innocent, while I was sure as hell you were a Death Eater who had sold James and Lily to…"

"If things had been different, the other way around, I would have done the same. I never thought Peter had it in him; he just wasn't clever or brave enough. He was just scared enough, and I will, by Merlin, find him and make him pay."

"And I'll help you, Sirius. But to answer your question, I recognised her on the train before we even got to Hogwarts. I was dozing in a compartment of my own, it was no more than three days after the full moon, and I was a wreck. I heard the door open and a few kids come in. I pretended to sleep, wrapped in my coat, hearing their voices distantly. I recognised her voice before I even saw her. Two boys, Harry and Ron, it turned out, discussed who I was, and she told them. With that sharp deduction of hers she said my name together with my new title, Professor R. Lupin, after reading it on my trunk. Her voice is more like who she was when we knew her, than her looks, she is still very young, just a child."

Sirius grinds his teeth and supresses a very doglike whining. He sighs and hides his face in his hands. Remus continues.

"For the better part of this year, well, as I said before, up until two days ago, I saw her in the light of what I believed was true about you, Sirius. She is bright, exceptionally so, but I've pitied her. I've seen her as this bright, young, compassionate, loyal witch who will grow up, for some reason slip through a time warp and meet you only to be… I don't know, sometimes I thought you had killed her before you drove to Godric's Hollow that Halloween."

"Killed her?" Sirius whispers through his hands. "Are you insane? I sent her away, I turned the hourglass on her time turner myself, forcing the chain into her hands, being the one who let go, she begged me to let her stay, telling me all the secrets about the future we had tried to coax out of her for as long as we had known her."

"I hoped that was what happened. When I met her last September, so young, I wondered if she might be your daughter."

"My daughter?" Sirius voice is still a whisper, his eyes somewhere behind Remus head. He is too exhausted to use complete sentences, too emotionally unstable to maintain eye contact with his friend.

"Yes, if… Hermione," Remus uses her name for the first time, and Sirius closes his eyes, "had been pregnant when she… eh, went back…"

"She wasn't." Sirius voice is hoarse. "If she had been I wouldn't have sent her away. I wouldn't have gone to James and Lily's if… No, I think I would have fled the country. With her of course."

"I believe you. But she is just a girl now, she is thirteen. I knew her, I remember her as an adult. How old were we? Nineteen? Barely adults. And if she had been your daughter she would have been at least two years younger than Harry. She is a few months older, I've checked."

Sirius leans back against the armchair, craning back his neck so he watches the exposed beams in ceiling.

"I hid my memories of her while I was in prison. During the past year, when I've been on the run, I've relived them, fearing I'll never see her again, and now when I have I wish I hadn't. How can I…? She's Harry's best friend. She is your student. She has no idea."

"You can be her friend, Sirius."

Sirius tilts his head and meets Remus' amber eyes.

"I can never be her friend."

Remus frowns, not directly at Sirius's statement, but at something his quick mind concludes. His gaze wanders around the room, at the fire, the mantelpiece with candles, the desk and bookcases, before he faces Sirius with determination written across his tired and scared features.

"Oh, yes you will. Back then, you had been her friend before. You might even have been more, I don't really want to know, but the confidence she showed when she landed among us during our last term came from somewhere. She knew both of us before, she didn't know James and Lily, and she shuddered when Peter touched her."

"She couldn't change the future," Sirius mumbles. "She always said she couldn't change the future. The outcome, she said once, but she wouldn't say the outcome of what. But outcome, Remus, that is a word you only use about wars, isn't it?"

Remus nods.

"But you still need to be her friend, Sirius. To give her older self, and your younger self what you once had."

"I know, Remus. But how can I? How can I be her friend without being repulsed by my own memories? She is a child! And I feel sick when I see how pretty she is."

"She wasn't a child then. She is now. And remember what Albus said when we graduated."

"What was that? Never do anything that you can get someone else to do?" Sirius snarls.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. You haven't got your 20s back, but you are out of Azkaban with most of your sanity intact." Sirius huffs at this. "You have me and Albus on your side. You have Harry. You matter to him. To me. You can matter to her too."

Sirius faces the fire and nods.

**Hermione**

_Hermione and Harry run, almost bent double, after Crookshank's bobbing tail in the tunnel. Ahead they hear Ron cry out in pain. Her shoulder aches and she feels blood trickling down her chest, the metallic scent fuelling her panic. Somewhere in her mind she has a hunch about where they are going to end up. She always had a good sense of orientation. Wooden stairs in front of them confirm her suspicions; they are in the cellar of the Shrieking Shack. Harry grabs her right hand, she holds her left hand across her chest to keep her cut shoulder as still as possible._

_Her imagination plays various scenarios in her mind. Ron dead. Ron being beaten up by that dog, or is it a wolf? Care of Magical Creatures has been a neglected subject during their years at Hogwarts. Hagrid started out with good intentions, but being Hagrid he has focused mainly on really rare creatures. Hermione wants to know more about the semi-magical creatures like wolfs, rats, toads, bats and owls, but Hagrid is more info fire crabs and unicorns. What are the odds that you come across those in real life, compared with a man that turns into a werewolf once a month? Her mouth goes dry at the thought. She knows about professor Lupin and his sick leaves every month. Does he have a mate? Or is the dog another shape of their professor? Somehow she knows the dog is connected to professor Lupin in one way or the other._

_ "__Mind that step," Harry whispers and pulls her close, next to a large hole in the worn wood. _

_She feels his heart beat furiously against her back. He grabs her left shoulder and a shot of pain clears her mind. They nox their wands and creeps closer to the half-open door._

_ "__Together," she whispers with more confidence than she feels. Harry nods and they burst through the door together._

_It is Crookshank's who undoes them. Lying on a once magnificent four-poster bed and purring his heart out, they lose their focus and are totally unprepared for Ron's rambling that reveals who is behind another half-closed door._

_Not a dog. An Animagus. Sirius Black, mad mass murderer on the run from prison. Most wanted in Magical Britain for the better part of a year, even wanted by muggle authorities. Here? Going after Ron?_

_Hermione's quick mind can't put the pieces together they way she usually does. She only knows Harry is the one she needs to protect. She takes a step to stand in front of him._

_ "__If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too."_

_Black looks past her, straight at Harry behind her. Then Harry shoves her aside and goes for Black._

_ "__No, Harry!"_

_Then a blur of Harry actually bringing the adult wizard down, professor Lupin appearing and disarming Harry, allying with Black and turning her world upside down. Tears of disappointment fall down her cheeks while she screams at her once admired professor, whose secret she has kept since October._

_ "__I trusted you!" she yells at professor Lupin. The words come without her thinking about them or how to string them together. Her panicked, fearful wide-open mind registers Black having gone silent and still, almost paralysed and not watching them anymore. He stares into space while she argues with his friend. After only a few seconds Black snaps out of it and begins a litany of killing, waiting and Azkaban in his hoarse, broken voice. While Professor Lupin considers Black's plan, demands and inevitabilities, Black looks at her from across the room. Harry holds her left hand, hard enough to top the pain from her shoulder, but she doesn't want it any other way. They both need someone to cling to, having been robbed of the trust they have felt for their all time best Defense against the Dark Arts teacher ever. But Black looks at her for two seconds worth of silence. He looks at her as if he recognizes her. His sunken but shining eyes look straight at her. Softly. Sadly. Painfully._

_ "__Very well," says Professor Lupin and gives Harry's wand to Black. "Kill him."_

Hermione wakes up with a gasp and bolts up in a sitting position.

_Did I scream? _

But only light snores and deep breaths are heard from the other beds in her dormitory. She can't wake up anyone else. What they did two nights ago, only Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall know, apart from those who were in the Shrieking Shack. She wishes she could wake up Harry. Ron is still in the hospital wing. Silently she creeps out of bed, pulls on her dressing gown and continues down the stairs to the common room. A house-elf immediately appears and asks her if she needs anything or if she is feeling ill.

"I'm fine," she assures the small creature with her concerned tennis ball-sized eyes. "A dream woke me up. Could you bring me a cup of tea, please? Or would you rather I came down to the kitchen and made it myself?"

The house-elf looks appalled.

"To the kitchen, miss? No, no, no. Penny will make your tea. You take milk, but no sugar?"

Hermione nods, moved by the elf's infallible memory, and actually feels her eyes becoming teary.

"Was it a bad dream, miss?" the elf asks. "Would you like Penny to make you chamomile tea? Penny's chamomile tea chases nightmares away."

Hermione smiles warmly at the little elf.

"No, Penny. It wasn't a nightmare, just a very vivid dream. I'd like a cup of tea and think about it, rather than going back to sleep and forget it."

Penny is gone with a small crack. Hermione puts a few pieces of wood on the dying fire and ignites them with her wand. Then she sinks down in the couch and thinks about the dream. It pretty much replayed what happened two nights ago. It was the most overwhelming night of her life. She can still feel her stomach drop when she remembers the flight on Buckbeak. She doesn't like flying. Not on brooms, not even in airplanes with her parents in the muggle world. She did, however, feel a lot safer after Harry and she had rescued Sirius from the Dark Tower and she flew on Buckbeak's back with Sirius' hands around her waist. Though high above the ground she felt safe and grounded. When they landed with a clatter on the battlements Sirius asked for her wand. Without thinking she handed the worn piece of vine to him and didn't even flinch when he pointed it at her.

"_Vulnera Sanentur_," Sirius muttered under his breath and she felt the gash in her shoulder clean and close itself with a sensation similar to the xylocaine her parents used in their dentistry. Sirius handed the wand back to her, took her by the hand and ushered both Harry and her to a bench around a corner. When he released her hand she felt empty, as if she lost something important. When he turned to Harry with an urgency she wasn't part of she felt rejected and went back to calm and pet Buckbeak. She heard Sirius' voice distantly.

"The ones who love us never really leave us. And you can always find them…" During the short silence Hermione felt something tug at her heart, and knew, could see in her mind's eye, Sirius' calloused and tattooed hand over Harry's heart, before he finished his sentence. "…in here."

She was inexplicably flushed when Sirius took the chains around Buckbeak's neck and mounted the hippogriff.

"You really are the brightest witch of your age," he said and Hermione knew that is the most heartfelt compliment anyone ever has paid her.

The stairs from the boy's dormitory creaks and Hermione holds her breath until a dishevelled Harry appears.

"Dreams?" she asks.

Harry nods. Penny apparates with Hermione's tea and magically doubles it for Harry as well.

"I dreamt about Sirius," Harry says, mimicking Hermione's thought. "Do you think he is all right?"

"He is with professor Lupin over the weekend. They have twelve years to catch up on. Yes, I think he is all right. I'm more worried about professor Lupin. The parents won't let him continue teaching now that his lycanthropy isn't a secret anymore."

"Damn Snape," Harry mutters. He sips his tea before he leans his head against Hermione's shoulder. It's her left shoulder, but the healing spell Sirius fixed it with seems perfect. She feels Harry breathe into her hair. Their relationship has always been less complicated then Ron's and hers, and since the night they went into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow Harry and she are even closer than before. She was more than prepared to stand in front of a killing curse to protect him, and that knowledge made her relax against his chest when he embraced her to shield her from the werewolf's attack in the Dark Forest. Maybe they protected each other at the exact same time, with the help of her time turner. She will always protect Harry, and she will always trust him to protect her. She takes his hand and they sit in silence.

"Sirius said I can move in with him when he has been cleared of all charges. He has a house in London. I'd love that. He can tell me things about my parents no one else can. He was their best friend, he and Professor Lupin. They are the only ones alive who actually knew them well."

Hermione has a feeling Harry is forgetting someone who also was close, really close to his parents, but she can't put her finger to who it would be.

_Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. Molly and Arthur are a fair bit older than they were. Neville's parents? They aren't dead, are they? But why is he living with his grandmother? _

A sudden flash picture outlines a small group of young people in her mind. They are sitting in the same couch she and Harry are. One looks like Harry, but older, almost a grown up. Ginny is sitting next to him, no, it must be Lily. Professor Lupin, before he became a professor, still boyish and very handsome, points at something in an open book in his hand. On the other side of Lily a dark young man, it must Sirius, sits. He has his arm around a girl, a girl Hermione can't place from the stories she has heard about Harry's parents' Hogwarts days. The girl leans her head against Sirius' chest and her dark golden curls hide her face completely. On the floor, closer to the fire, Peter sits with an unhappy expression across his features. Hermione blinks, repulsed by the poor, weak, scared rat Animagus, and the image is gone all together.

Hermione faces the fire and nods.


	2. Autumn and Christmas 1994

**Chapter 2**

**Autumn, 1994**

**Sirius**

"Why does the old tosser comply to arrange the Triwizard Tournament now?" Sirius growls. "He of all people knows that Harry is special, not to mention precious, to the whole wizarding community, all of magical Britain. And then let him participate!? Of course there is some kind of black magic here, the fingerprints of bloody Voldemort are all over it."

"He can't change the rules. Barty Crouch was adamant. It's a legal, binding magical contract," Remus says in a lower voice. He is just as concerned but tries to think, rather than rave.

"Legal? Binding? Since when did Albus really care about that? And Barty Crouch seems senile. I saw him during the first task, he looks decades older than he should. Eyes all glassy, as if he wasn't really there."

"You saw him!? You went to see… How much of a death wish do you have, Sirius? If someone…"

"No one saw me. Maybe Hagrid, he's the only one capable of recognizing me."

"You mean…"

"Yes, Padfoot was there. But, to return to Harry, Albus has spent years protecting him, why use him as bait now? And you know, just as well as I do, that Albus isn't the most law-abiding wizard around. My trial, for instance. One would have thought he at least should have visited me, having a soft spot for reformed dark wizards, me being in his Order and coming from the darkest of pure-blood traditionalists."

Remus just nods and pours another cup of tea. Sirius gets up and leaves the room. He returns with a backpack and Remus looks questioningly at his friend.

"I'm leaving. I'll stay in one of the caves I found last year. I want to be close to Harry. Just popping up in the fireplace and only catching him occasionally just isn't good enough. James and Lily trusted me with him. I need to be there, I really do."

Remus nods again.

"Yes, I can see that you must. You've been restless like a ghost since September, so just go. I'll come visit. And come back whenever you need to. You know where the key is."

Remus follows Sirius to the door.

"Have you seen her since…" he asks.

Sirius shakes his head.

"No, not since I left her and Harry on the battlements and took off with Buckbeak. I've mostly been here, you know that."

"She writes to me, sometimes," Remus says. "She knows you have been staying here. She sends her love."

Sirius flinches slightly but says nothing.

"You did so well with the dragon, Harry. I'm so proud of you. I was about to suggest the Conjunctivitis Curse that the Hufflepuff boy used, but your way was definitely more impressive and, from the dragon's point of view, more fair."

"I didn't really care about the dragon's point of view, Sirius, but thank you."

He blushes and sits down in Sirius' simple campsite. He deflects Sirius questions about the next task, and asks instead about Sirius' and his parents' Hogwarts days. Any other tournaments then? Quidditch Cups? What was Lily's best subject in school? James's? Sirius answers as best he can. He has only seen Harry once since the spring, when Harry took a detour from Privet Drive to Remus' cottage before going to the Burrow and the Quidditch World Cup, and they are far from done with filling in the blanks in Harry's parents' history. Hesitantly he glances to the mouth of the cave where Hermione watches out for them. The cave is far up in the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, and it's possible to spot intruders a mile away. Sirius stood there himself half an hour ago, watching them approaching. Watched her, almost reluctantly, then sighed and tried to feel gratefulness Harry had someone like Hermione so close. Ron is also with them, also trying to talk about the next task in the tournament, but accepting the storytelling Harry wants instead.

"McGonagall gives us dancing lessons," Ron says. "For the Yule Ball. Part of this whole Tournament. Getting dates is the hardest part, even Harry…"

Sirius knows about the tradition, and Ron's tone amuses him. Clearly the boy is terrified by the mere thought of dancing, not to mention girls.

"McGonagall dancing," he muses. "I think you are among very few who have witnessed that. Give it a chance, Ron. You might have fun."

Ron puffs and Sirius hides a smile.

_So young. So insecure. So much to find out._

He chances a glance at the girl at the cave opening.

"A ball, Hermione, what do you think about that?"

She turns around and gives off a little speech about the Tournament's objectives, a friendly competition (here Harry rolls his eyes), to strengthen the bonds between the schools, and so forth, but it doesn't really matter what she says. She is beaming. She clearly already has a date. He wonders who it is. Neither Harry nor Ron, of that he is certain. Ron is obviously barely aware of her being a girl, and Harry's closeness to her of is a different kind.

**1994, Christmas**

He watches her, he watches them all from the battlements, hawk-eyed through the stained glass into the ball room. He knows she had some kind of relationship with someone then, or that she will, in her time-line, in a few, less than ten, years from now, but he doesn't know with whom. When he sees her with Harry a part of him wants it to be him; Sirius loves him like a son and wants the world for him. The other part of him growls silently with canine claim.

_Mine._

She dances with a dark Durmstrang student he vaguely recognizes. Transfixed, Sirius watches the young man's hands around her waist, knowing exactly what it feels like holding her like that.

_Like holding the whole world in my hands._

Later he watches her run up the stairs crying, and he hates the Durmstrang student with all the Black family fury and ferocity that run in his blood.

The three of them come to visit him on Boxing Day. Stubbornly he has turned down Remus invitation to spend Christmas at the cottage. The cave is freezing as soon as he stops conjuring small blue flames that provide warmth but no smoke. When his acute hearing was alerted people were coming, and he had made sure it was the trio, he lit flames around the cave, and the temperature is almost bearable when the teenagers arrive. Sirius doesn't notice the cold anymore. Twelve years of constant temperatures below ten degrees centigrade is not healthy, and definitely harmful in one's perception of cold.

They have brought him food, which he gratefully accepts, even though the same is true about twelve years of constant starvation. No proper hunger. Not for food, at least.

He almost forces Harry to talk about the second task.

"Even if it's not a dragon's egg, you took it from a dragon, didn't you? Have you tried heating it?"

"Yes," Harry mutters. "I've tried everything I can think of, and I've asked Hagrid as well. I told him it was for a school essay; I think he knew it wasn't, but he told me anyway. He told me everything there is to know about hatching eggs, from Phoenixes to penguins, but that's not really the problem. Opening the egg, I mean. The problem is how to keep it open and not loose your hearing. The noise is… I don't know, it's like clawing the blackboard or chewing on stones." He shudders.

"What do you think?" Sirius asks Ron and Hermione. Ron comes from a pure-blood family as different from Sirius' as humanly possible, but the young Weasley has no suggestions. Hermione shivers and pulls her scarf higher around her neck. Sirius lights another flame in his tea mug and gives it to her. She thanks him with a smile and holds the cup with both hands. He has to think hard to remember what they were talking about, but she steers him back on track.

_Always could do that, love, couldn't you? Had you kept me out of Azkaban if I had kept you close?_

"It is as if whatever's in there can't handle the atmosphere you open it in, Harry," she says. "Have you tried to open it where it's very cold? Or very warm? You could take it outside. Or go down to the kitchen on Thursdays, when the house-elves bake?"

"How do you know the elves are baking on Thursdays?" Ron asks, but Hermione only gives him an annoyed look and turns to Harry again.

"No, no, I haven't. I can take it out tonight and try. Will you come with me?"

Both nod hesitantly.

"Ever heard of the _Muffliato Charm_?" Sirius asks.

They shake their heads and he teaches them Severus Snape's invention. He doesn't tell them it's their Potions teacher who invented it, of course. Hermione picks it up instantly, as he knew she would. She is fascinated by it, but says she really thinks it's a dubious charm that shouldn't be used in public.

Harry and Ron are restless. It turns out Ron's brothers Fred and George have arranged a small party, which they are eager to get back for. Sirius is sad to see them go, but hides it behind a friendly poker face. He might apparate to see Remus, he says.

"You go," Hermione says. "I'll stay a little while longer. I want to ask Sirius about… that charm."

If the others notice the small pause in her sentence they think nothing of it. Or perhaps they are just really keen on getting back to the Gryffindor common room. Sirius realizes Harry wants to see him alone. That his godson wants to see him, Sirius, like the closest thing to a father figure the world has to offer. Remus was close to Harry last academic year, but being a teacher entails a certain distance. Sirius wants to do this, be some kind of link between Harry and James, and he also realizes it must be just the two of them. With Hermione present, Sirius is far too distracted, and Harry is far too concerned with keeping up pretences of being more grown up than he is.

_She's his age._

_Yes, she is now. She was my age then._

_But today is now, not then._

_Why am I fighting myself?_

_Because by some gene mutation you are righteous and honourable even though you are a Black._

_I… What…? Oh, shut up!_

"Well, bye then. Have fun. I'll walk Hermione back to Hogsmeade."

He waves from the opening of the cave. He doesn't really see the boys anymore, all his senses are aware of is Hermione's presence next to him. She leaves the opening and sits down in the campsite, and he takes the place opposite her.

"Sirius, I'm worried," she says without preamble, and as if she has known him for years and not just since last spring.

_You have known me for years. You just don't know it yet. And I don't mind you sharing whatever's worrying you. Please, do._

"About?" he asks when she doesn't continue, and only looks into the blue flame in the tea mug she's still holding.

"What? Oh! Harry, of course. I don't know how much he really tries to solve this egg problem. Ever since I first met him, he has been thrown into… things, problems, dark magic related situations without having a say in the matter. And now this, I mean, Cedric, Viktor and Fleur wanted to be part of the tournament. Harry didn't. Again he was drawn into something he can't explain, but being this… this saviour, or whatever he became when he was just a baby, he just goes with it. It is as if he has given up his free will. Whatever Dumbledore says, whatever Hogwarts demands of him, whatever Fudge advises him…" She sobs once, but immediately clears her throat and continues. "I spoke to Cho at the ball, she's Cedric's girlfriend, and she hinted that Cedric had solved his egg. I'm just so afraid for him, Sirius. He's my best friend. He and Ron. And I know Harry is special. But how much is he going to put up with? He's defied V… Vol… Voldemort face to face when he had the Philosopher's stone. He… oh, God, that Basilisk… we were only twelve and he killed it."

She almost rambles and Sirius shuffles over to sit next to her and pulls her close to him. She shivers, and her teeth chatter when she speaks.

"Being terrified of a mass murderer on the run was more or less a walk in the park, last year. But now this? Why the hell does Dumbledore allow it? He could pull strings, couldn't he?" She doesn't wait for Sirius to answer. "And the first task. His dragon broke away. All Harry had was his flying skills. I never…"

Sirius has watched her, fascinated by her quick mind, but ends her stream of words by putting his finger on her lips.

"Hermione. Hermione, stop. Be quiet. Listen to me."

He takes away his finger. Even if the gesture was only meant to quell the panic in her words, he is unprepared for the feeling of her lips against his skin.

_Not supposed to feel like this. _

He focuses on her childlike features.

_Father figure. Friend._

She meets his eyes. Dark and teary they beg him for something, anything to help Harry.

"This Cedric," Sirius says. "Is he the Hufflepuff boy?" Hermione nods. "Didn't Harry tell him about the dragons?" She nods again. "Doesn't he owe Harry then? Or isn't he that kind of boy?"

Hermione frowns and looks, alarmingly, a few years older.

"From what I know about him he is fair. I know he was grateful for Harry's tip."

"Maybe he needs to be reminded of that?" Sirius suggests.

The frown disappears and she almost smiles. He strives to see the child in that smile and returns it.

**Hermione**

It is colder than before when they make their way back. It's a full moon, but pitch dark in the shadows. Hermione thinks about their former professor Lupin and wonders where he is tonight. Sirius takes her hand when she slips on a spot of ice, and keeps holding it when they come to smoother terrain. She likes it. She likes him. Apart from professor Lupin, she hasn't met anyone who sees Harry as person and not only this unexplainable hero. Well, Ron does, but Ron sees Harry only as a regular person. He is jealous of every danger Harry finds himself in. In that way Ron is an idiot, in all other ways he is her best friend.

"I'll walk you to the gates," Sirius says.

"You don't have to," she answers, not wanting to seem afraid of the dark or be regarded as a child.

"There are other werewolves than Remus. Werewolves who haven't taken any Wolfsbane Potion because they welcome their transformation, and the hunger it entails."

"And Padfoot would play fetch sticks with them to distract them and save me?" she asks. She has no idea why the rather arrogant, provocative or even flirty question slips out of her mind.

"Of course I would," he answers. "Not by playing, though."

She brushes it off with a laugh. Suddenly her hand slips out of his when he stops. She turns towards him. He watches something over her head, beyond her. She realizes that they are at the same spot where Harry and Sirius stood last spring, just after they had left the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack and seconds before the lights from full moon hit professor Lupin's eyes and he lost himself in the Lycanthropy in his blood.

Hogwarts glimmers in the cold light. White frost on the bare trees enhances the image of a painting in the scenic setting. Like a world of its own. Hermione takes a step back to watch it from the same perspective as Sirius. She misses his hand, but when she takes the step towards him he wraps his arms around her from behind and holds her tight. The bitter cold is gone instantly. It feels like letting out a breath after holding it longer than you should. It's the safety of her father's embrace, the love of Harry's and the tingles from Viktor Krum's.

"What do you see, Hermione? What is Hogwarts to you?" he whispers in her ear.

"It's… it's…, well, to me it's a nagging feeling that it's more home than where I grew up. It's where I became normal, even smart and talented after having been the strange kid in every school I attended in the muggle world. It's where my friends are. I never had friends like Harry and Ron before. They are everything to me. It's the best place in the world. And for a study nerd like me I've heard it's better than Beauxbatons."

"You're not a nerd, Hermione," Sirius mumbles. "Harry tells me you are a genius. And he would be lost without you. Finding out about the Basilisk in your second year, for instance."

She feels her cheeks burn, with mixed feelings.

_They've talked about me. Me?!_

"What do you see, Sirius?"

He clears his throat softly behind her.

"Same as you. The world. Before Hogwarts I didn't live in the real world. I lived in a twisted, demented, warped illusion of it. A blur of pure-blood mania and the very worst reactionaries. Except my brother. I never knew, before it was too late, and I, well, we spent the time we had hating each other. I because I thought he was pretty much like out parents, and he… I don't know, as a counter-reaction to how I treated him. Later you… Well, I found out that he'd been on the same side as me, in the end, but in a much more dangerous position. I'm sorry I never doubted my own prejudices against him, and just assumed he was the Black who followed in the footsteps of our parents."

Hermione says nothing. She can really see the black and white contrast between his family and what she knows about Sirius' Hogwarts days with Harry's dad.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I shouldn't…"

"No, no, it's fine," she assures him in a whisper. "Hogwarts can be the world to someone for many different reasons."

He says nothing, and she hears him inhale slowly. She knows he will let go of her within seconds and she wishes he wouldn't. Her back is against his chest, and she feels his body heat through his thick knitted pullover and her own thin jacket. She wishes time would stop. She wonders if she can go back to this place in time with her time turner that she never got around to giving back to Professor McGonagall.

_If I do go back, will he know?_

Distantly they hear the bell tower at Hogwarts chime nine.

"It's my curfew," she says and feels very young and guarded.

"I know," he says. "It was the same when I was a student. Too soon. Come on."

He hugs her harder for a too short second and then takes off with quick strides. When they reach the gates, she is flushed and a little out of breath. He seems totally unaffected and even a little dismissive.

_I'm keeping him from going to support Remus. Why didn't he tell me when Harry and Ron left?_

Professor McGonagall waits for them on the other side of the iron gates. She is wrapped in a large fur coat and a tartan deerhunter hat, and she looks totally unaware of the sub-zero temperature.

"Minerva," Sirius greets her. "Good to see you."

"And you, Sirius. How are you holding up? I know Albus is working on getting the charges against you dropped. Even Severus has witnessed that Peter isn't dead. But now this Tournament takes all his time. I wish…"

Sirius holds up his hands.

"I'm all right, Minerva. Really. I have Remus, and if worst comes to worst, I can always go to London. Grimmauld Place is totally unplottable, even though I don't really care for the place."

Hermione feels as if she isn't there and is just about to slink through the gates, when professor McGonagall turns to her, but without saying anything. She doesn't understand the expression in her professor's eyes. Pity? Worry? The older woman then turns back to Sirius with a similar, indecipherable look. In the corner of her eye Hermione sees Sirius make a small gesture with his head in her direction. Like there are things he would discuss with her professor if she herself weren't there.

"I'll just… well, good night then. Thank you, Sirius for walking me."

Instantly he turns to her and a smile she couldn't hear in his voice a second ago warms her right down to her toes.

"Good night, Hermione." He leans down and kisses her softly on her cheek. He smells like the forest in the summer. Wood and grass and a hint of pine resin. Before she can react he has withdrawn, and she slips through the gates and begins to walk towards the castle.

After a few yards professor McGonagall calls to her.

"Wait there for me, Miss Granger. I'll just ask Mr Black about something."

Hermione stops and looks back at the two grown ups at the gates. The scene is still very picturesque. She hears snippets of their conversation and tries to look as if she hears nothing at all.

"... so sorry, Sirius."

"… nothing you could do, Minerva."

"I wish time would have been kinder to you. You of all people deserve it."

Sirius shrugs at this. Hermione doesn't understand what they are talking about. His incarceration? Being wanted? His family? But why "time"? He leans closer to the professor and Hermione can only pick up a few words.

"… time comes… … send her back to me… … pray for…"

Hermione sees professor McGonagall cup Sirius' face with her hand and then nod. The next second Sirius takes a step back and waves to her before he turns around and leaves. Hermione lifts her hand and returns his wave.


	3. Christmas 1995

**Chapter 3 **

**December 1995**

**Hermione**

_Dear Hermione, _

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that it won't turn your Christmas upside down. I'm sure you've heard about the attack on Arthur Weasley, by now. What you may not know is that Harry helped people in the Order so they could find Arthur quickly enough to save his life. He had some kind of dream where he saw it happen. The whole Weasley family and Harry are staying with me for the holidays, to be close to St Mungo's, where Arthur is recovering. I'm happy to have them here, but I'm worried about Harry. He seems to think he is somehow responsible. He told me things about the night it happened, and it scared him more than anything he has been through before. He doesn't sleep, he's moody and withdraws from everyone. The Weasleys don't really notice, but I do. I've never seen him like this before, and I can't really reach him. He doesn't want to speak to me, and I don't know what to do, as I clearly can see that he needs to speak to someone._

_I know it's Christmas, and that normal people such as yourself see this holiday as a time for family and friends. I might be an insensitive bastard to ask you this, but can you find it in your heart to come and see Harry? I've always treasured friends before family, but I know I'm not like most people, and that your family is nothing like mine. You are more than welcome to stay until after the New Year._

_Ron said you were going skiing with your parents, but since you don't like snow in general and snow-covered slopes in particular, I thought I'd ask. _

_I'm sorry if my god fatherly concern about Harry is too much. Please let me hear from you soon._

_Love_

_Sirius_

Butterflies. Lots of them. Despite the damp, grey and dark December, Hermione is intensely aware of butterflies. A whole community of them has taken up residence in her stomach, sending tingling tickles through her body. She hates skiing, but her parents love it, and they are going to the French Alps tomorrow. Her parents won't really miss her that much when there are snowy hills and lifts and after-skis to attend. She'll use her usual "I need to study." She had planned to anyway, but in Chamonix. Now she'll do it and stay behind in England. Going to Grimmauld Place. Sirius's letter worries her. She always worries about Harry, fearing that all their mad adventures during the more than four years together is only the beginning of… Beginning of the end? What has happened now?

The butterflies don't come from worry, though. It's the tone in Sirius's letter that conjures them up. She has not been prepared that he would confide in her, but is thrilled that he does now. Writing to her as… as a friend, but something more than the adult friend to a child. There is something more there. Something she likes. Something she wants more of.

The first time she visited his house in Grimmauld Place was in August, just before the new school term. But then Sirius had kept mostly to himself, and been in a rather foul mood when he appeared at mealtimes. There hadn't been a trace of the closeness she had felt the previous Christmas, when he had walked her back to Hogwarts from the cave he camped out in. She had been secretly disappointed. The letter she now holds in her hand makes her remember their walk through the frosty evening a year before. Evidently the butterflies also remember, and make her shiver from their wild dance inside.

She asks the Knight Bus to let her off at Angel underground station on the Northern Line, implying she has plans to continue her journey by this muggle way of transportation. Instead she walks the few blocks to the street with the row of Georgian brick houses, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her belongings, including the books she has brought home from Hogwarts are all shrunken inside.

_How do I…? What does Sirius really want me to say to Harry? What if Harry doesn't want to talk to me either? He has been so reticent this term, exploding when I've pressed him. Refusing to tell anyone about his detentions with Umbridge. Has he told Sirius about the blood quills?_

Hermione realises she is as concerned about how her talk with Harry will go, as she is about what Sirius will think about her help.

_Eager to please?_

She blushes and does not want to scrutinise her motives further.

_He__asked __me__ to come. Me._

Number 12 appears between 11 and 13, looking as grim and uncared for as ever. She hears the doorbell echo inside and runs her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the wild curls the damp weather has caused.

"Kreacher! Where the hell are you? You should get the door! Has anyone seen that bloody elf?" Sirius's voice is cold and annoyed from the other side of the thick oak door. Hermione straightens up when she hears his footsteps coming closer.

Her first impression of him matches his angry question about his house elf, but only for a split second. When he sees her his expression changes to the most welcoming smile Hermione has ever seen. The butterflies go even wilder. Sirius takes a step back to let her in, and as if drawn by an invisible line attached to him she crosses the threshold. He holds out his arms and without thinking she walks right into his embrace. When he folds his arms tightly around her she thinks about jigsaw puzzles. For some reason she gets the same feeling as when she finds two azure pieces of the sky in a 2000 pieces puzzle to fit. Pressed to his chest, she feels his quick heartbeat. He inhales slowly before he speaks.

"I'm so glad you're here, love. So good to see you. Really. Would you rather have gone to France with your parents?"

She shakes her head against his shoulder and mumbles "No, not at all," while she wishes he won't let go of her. And for a few seconds, he doesn't. Then he takes hold of her shoulders, and keeps holding her at arm-length distance.

"Where is Harry?" she asks.

For a second he looks as if he has never met anyone by that name.

"Harry? Oh, Harry! He's upstairs. Third floor, to the left. He's kept Buckbeak company since this morning. But I think you should speak to Fred or George before you go up. Come on. Let me take your bag."

He reaches for her backpack and ushers her towards the library. He keeps his hand at the small of her back, and the tiny touch and the warmth of his hand make her unfocused and rather uninterested in Harry's self-imposed isolation with the Hippogriff.

Fred and George sit opposite each other with two armies of toy soldiers between them. With their wands they make the armies fight a brutal war, and small arms, legs and heads fly off the table, accompanied by low but desperate screams. Sirius clears his throat, and George looks up for a second.

"Let me just kill Napoleon first," he says and continues the fight with his brother. Soon Napoleon dies in a puddle of melted tin, and both brothers look up.

"Sorry about the table, Sirius," George says sheepishly. "I'm afraid I left a burn-mark. Or the Emperor of France did."

"Doesn't matter," Sirius says with a shrug. "I didn't like that table anyway. My mother used to keep her trained rats there. Look who's here."

"Granger, hello," Fred says and rises to give her a hug. Hermione hugs him back and suppresses the fact that Fred's hug does nothing like Sirius's for her, however tender the Weasley twin is.

"Can you tell Hermione what happened before Harry went all bugger-off-everyone-and-leave-me-alone?" Sirius asks Fred.

"Well, sure. We were at St Mungo's, visiting Dad…"

"Oh, Fred. How is Mr Weasley?" Hermione interrupts.

"He's… Well, I think he's getting better. I mean, he survived the attack by the snake, they somehow got control of the venom he got by the bites. Now when you're here you can come with us tomorrow. Are you staying for Christmas?"

Hermione glances at Sirius and finds him looking… expectantly.

_I never took him to be so keen on Christmas._

"Yes," she answers.

"Jolly good. You'll see Dad tomorrow then."

"Now, what happened at St Mungo's yesterday, Fred?" Sirius reminds him.

"OK. We were in Dad's room and George sort of tried getting Dad to tell us whether him being in the Department of Mysteries had anything to do with this weapon or whatever You-Know-Who's after. Since no one want to tell us," he adds with a glance in Sirius's direction. Sirius just shrugs and nods for George to continue. "Well, Mum seems terrified we'll be told anything at all and kicked us out. Said Tonks and Mad-Eye wanted to speak to Dad. So we stood outside Dad's room when brother dear here got this brilliant idea of testing our new product in other environments than at home."

Hermione frowns and George rises and joins them. He puts an arm around Hermione's shoulders and holds out his free hand. It's full of flesh-coloured stings with… ears.

"It's your extendable…"

"…Ears," George finishes for her.

"Can I see one of those?" Sirius asks and untangles one.

"Certainly. Well, anyway, St Mungo's didn't have any Imperturbable Charms against these, because they are of our own making, so we could hear everything they talked about in that room. Apparently Mum had spoken about Harry to Dumbledore who had been worried, I really don't know more about what exactly, but then Mad-Eye growled about Harry seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake and that Harry might be possessed without realising it."

"No," Sirius whispers, obviously shaken, even though he must have heard it before.

Hermione frowns again while her quick mind takes in George's words. She thinks about what she knows about visions, about possession and about Harry. Slowly she shakes her head.

"I don't think so," she says eventually.

"You don't?" Sirius gasps.

"No. Where is Ginny?"

"What? Why…? She is… Eh, where is your sister, George?"

"I saw her with Ron in the kitchen a while ago."

"OK," Hermione says and turns towards the kitchen. "I'll talk to you later."

A couple of hours later most of the guests in Grimmauld Place are gathered in the library, in couches, armchairs and on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Harry looks exhausted but happier than Hermione has seen him in weeks.

_How could he even think he was possessed? Doesn't he take in what happens around him? And he was even the one who found Ginny when she was possessed three years ago, and about to die. If he'd been possessed he wouldn't have had a will of his own, and huge lapses of memory. But there is something. A kind of connection between him and… Like there is a tiny bit of… Voldemort inside him. Is that even possible? I need to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts…_

She sits in the corner of a small sofa when Ginny comes and sits on the armrest. Ginny twirls the curls of Hermione's hair around her fingers, collect the dark golden tresses in a messy bun and secures it with Hermione's wand. She says in a low voice how happy she is not to be alone among all the boys. They chat in whispers about what Christmas gifts they have bought for the others. Then Ginny stretches from her uncomfortable position and nudges Hermione to make room for her. Hermione moves and finds herself bumping into Sirius, who has taken the other corner of the sofa. She stammers an excuse, but Sirius only smiles at her and shakes his head slightly. He stretches out his arm along the back of the sofa, not really touching her, but close enough for her to feel his body heat radiate on the skin of her exposed neck.

"What on earth did you say to him?" he mumbles.

Hermione shrugs and tells Sirius to talk to Harry about it. It feels wrong of her to reveal Harry's fears and mistakes to a man she knows Harry looks up to as a father and wants to make proud.

Fred shuffles over from his position in front of the fire.

"So, Sirius, what do you think about our Extendable Ears?"

Sirius takes down his arm from behind Hermione and leans forward to discuss pranks in general and the possibilities of the eavesdropping equipment in particular. Hermione is disappointed. For a few seconds Sirius's arm right behind her had recreated the jigsaw puzzle feeling. The satisfaction of a perfect fit. She looks at the fire, beyond Ron's black, shadowed profile, and for once she lets her mind run haphazardly instead of its usual structured way. Surrounded by the familiar scent of rows upon rows of books a red warning light inside her lights up.

_I'm crushing on Harry's godfather. I'm… I'm fifteen years old, he's… I don't know. Can he tell? How pathetic am I? Has anyone noticed?_

Inwardly stunned Hermione sits through an hour of undecipherable small talk. She wants to lean into the corner where Sirius sits and just… just be there, in his presence, curled up, inhaling his scent of grass and pine resin. She forces herself to sit absolutely still and to appear relaxed. Harry crouches down in front of her and pats her hand awkwardly to get her attention.

"What?" she says, not having noticed how he got there.

"Thank you," he says.

"For…? Oh, of course Harry. I was glad to help. You needed…"

"…you," Harry finishes for her.

"I was going to say 'someone who could see your position objectively'," she says with an embarrassed smile. She is suddenly aware of Sirius. He watches them and does not try to hide that he is listening to what they say.

"And who would that be but you?" he murmurs to her right and smiles softly.

She can't answer his rhetorical question and feels a blush creeping up her neck.

"You've got my back again and again. I would have needed more lives than a cat without you. Thank you." Harry's eyes are slightly unfocused and Hermione realises that he might have had other drinks than butterbeer. Or far too many butterbeers. This might also explain his embarrassing sincerity. A low voice on her right makes her care less about her friend's state of inebriation.

"You really have, love. I'll be grateful to you forever. Keeping a clear mind like you… well, it's something to pray for. If I can help you at all with this Dumbledore's Army, which I understand was your idea originally, please tell me. I can show you both some really nasty defence spells tomorrow."

"Great!" Harry beams. Then he rises and kisses Hermione clumsily on her cheek. She turns her left cheek to him and can see Sirius realising Harry's state of slight drunkenness. Well, what else is to be expected after two days of not eating and barely sleeping? But Sirius gets up to steady his godson, and for that alone Hermione is momentarily prepared to leave Harry to his false conclusion about being possessed by Voldemort.

Harry and Sirius are the last ones to leave the library but her. She hasn't noticed everyone else leaving, or how late it is. She doesn't want to climb the stairs to her room, though. She shares a guest room with Ginny and doesn't feel up to chatting, giggling and gossiping for another two hours. When Harry has left, supported by his godfather's arm around him, she curls up in the corner of the sofa that is still warm and smells of pine resin.

**Sirius**

Sirius smiles at the scene he is about to leave. It's far too familiar. The messy dark hair against the pillow, the glasses on the bedside table, the slight snoring. Harry isn't really drunk, merely exhausted, but he still looks like a carbon copy of James after a wild pub-crawl. Sirius used to be the last man standing, and quite frequently dragged James to the closest bed to sleep it off. In those days, Sirius's drinking habits were very moderate. He had someone to get back to at home, and he was rarely keen on staying out late for a boys' night.

He tiptoes down the stairs, avoiding the creakiest ones. It's late, and tonight he plans on having a few steady firewhiskey in front of the embers in the fireplace.

The house is warmer than it has been in months, and he flings his jacket on a hook in the hall and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He can't decide if he likes having so many people staying for the holiday. He loves the fact that Hermione came to stay, and tries to tell himself it's because Harry needed her clear deduction and convincing reasoning.

_Harry is entitled to need her. In any way. I need her in a way that hasn't happened yet. Not to her. Was I too obvious earlier? I could have sat there forever, just having her next to me. But the naked skin of her neck almost gave me a heart attack. I was about to pull her wand out of her hair just to see it fall down her shoulders. Why does she have to be so pretty, so soon?_

Sirius stops dead in his tracks in the doorframe leading to the library. The fire still burns with flickering flames and a few candles light up the room in a soft dusk. And Hermione is just where he left her. Almost. Curled up like a kitten in the corner where he's spent the evening unfocused on everything and everyone but her. Silently he crosses the floor and sits down on a chair next to the sofa where she sleeps.

Her features are slightly more rounded than when he knew her. When he first met her she was as thin as a greyhound, as if she had had months of sleeping rough, and almost starved. Her face and hands had also been peppered with small wounds, cuts and bruises and for the first few days, when Minerva McGonagall had asked Lily to help Hermione to settle in in the Head Girl's quarters, Hermione had walked with a barely noticeable limp. But, of course, at that point he already noticed everything about her. Her dark golden hair, the sometimes haunted look in her eyes, her square shoulders, which were always a little tense, her careful, but soft smile, and her faint blush whenever he spoke to her. He came to love that blush in matter of days.

Her dark eyelashes shiver in a dream. It's not a nightmare. He knows what she looks like when someone is threatening her with a knife in her sleeping state. He never really got to know where the incident with the knife happened, but he suspects it's where she got the large vile, large scar on the inside of her left arm. The scar had formed letters, and he remembered how its foul invective had haunted her. As if it had marked her to be something she wasn't.

Earlier today, during dinner, he had noticed that her left arm was unmarred and smooth.

_So, somewhere between now and… how long can it I be? Three years? Four?_

He caresses her visually. Her peachy vanilla scent invades his senses. Ever since he was rescued on the back of Buckbeak he has been able to recognise her by her scent alone. On a few occasions he hasn't been able to stop himself from slowly filling his canine sense of smell with her. He hopes she hasn't noticed and found it freaky.

Her right arm is bent under her head against the armrest, the other one rests across her chest, her left hand clenched against her long neck.

_You will be stiff and sore tomorrow. You will crane and stretch that long neck of yours and drive me insane._

Hesitantly he touches her shoulder. She doesn't react. He strokes her shoulder with his thumb a little to wake her up, and his skin comes in contact with hers. He closes his eyes to the sensation, and tries to close his mind to what his memory conjures up.

_Your collarbones and shoulders. Thin but strong enough to bear just about everything. Things really will go to hell between now and then, won't they? You have an innocence about you now I never even glimpsed later._

His eyes flick open when she moves under his hand and he is just about to break the physical contact when she leans into his hand with her face. Sirius forgets to breathe. Her lips against the palm of his hand. A sleepy kiss. Sirius pulls away his hand as if burned. The quick movement wakes her up. Slowly she opens her eyes and stretches her neck.

"Is the guest room that bad?" he asks lightly.

She sees him and blushes slightly.

"Sirius. No, not at all. I just… well, fell asleep. Is it late?"

"Midnight-ish."

"Is Harry asleep?"

The feeling of déjà vu is so intense it makes Sirius's head spin, and he is lost for words for a few seconds. Seconds long enough to rush through a memory so strong he can't control it.

_"__Is Harry asleep?"_

_He nods and yawns._

_ "__And you?" she continues teasingly, and he nods again._

_ "__Nothing is so exhausting as putting babies to bed," he sighs. "It is as if he can feel I want him to fall asleep and refuses, until I lay down and almost nod off."_

_She pats the place beside her on the sofa._

_ "__Come here. I'm sure you did a marvellous job with your godson. James and Lily will be relieved when they come back."_

_ "__When will they be back? What time is it?"_

_ "__Late-ish. And late-ish again. Can you think of any other exhausting activities?"_

Sirius shakes his head to clear his mind.

"Yes, he is. He was rather… tired," he finishes lamely, not wanting to use the word 'exhausted.'

"I'm worried about Harry," she says. "As usual."

"I know. You are too compassionate. And maybe too clever."

Hermione looks questioningly at him.

"You can probably see more risks in everything that happens than he, Ron or I put together. Is it a woman thing?"

She blushes.

"Well, I never… I don't know. Maybe. But how can he not see? I mean…?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to?" Sirius suggests, rises and walks over to where he keeps his liquor. He pulls out a glass and glances at her over his shoulder. She frowns in deep thought. Before he pours he flicks his wand at the fire to have it burn stronger and warmer again. Transfixed he watches her stretch her legs against the fire, baring her ankles. He turns away. He really needs that glass of firewhisky.

After he turns around Sirius realises his mistake. He has indeed poured himself a glass of Ogden's Finest in one of his mother's crystal tumblers, but by habit, forgotten but awoken tonight, he has poured Hermione a glass of a wine he knows she loves. Or will come to love. He sees her eyes widen in surprise. Of course, what responsible adult would serve the hideously expensive elf-wine to a teenager? Or wine at all? At least not in the large crystal glasses he has dug out especially for Christmas. It's too late to undo, he just has to go along with his mistake and hope it will be the last this evening. Nonchalantly, as if he really does not know how young she is, he holds out the glass to her with an unspoken question in his eyes. Hesitantly she nods, takes the glass and says 'thank you' in a low voice.

"Now, tell me about this Dumbledore's Army," he says. "I understand Harry is doing well as a teacher."

Hermione beams and starts telling him about the secret meetings in the Room of Requirement and the spells Harry has taught them. She sips the wine as if she actually knows how to drink it, not gulping it down like Sirius probably would have done at her age.

"After the holidays Harry might try to teach the Patronus Charm."

Sirius is impressed, but doubtful.

"Is that really appropriate? I mean, many of you won't be able to…" He stops talking when he sees her rage.

"Be able to what?" she says in a low voice he recognises and respects. "Because we are fifteen years old and haven't got enough experience?"

"Hm, well, yes, something like that crossed my mind. It is advanced magic after all." He regrets doubting her. He is certain she would be able to transform him into a frog quicker than he could down his drink.

"Do you know Harry saved your soul with a Patronus almost two years ago? His Patronus is a stag, just like James's."

"But Harry was with me, at the shore of the lake when the Dementors came soaring in…"

"Harry and I went back in time to save both him and you. I have… I mean, I had a Time Turner. Professor Lupin had taught him to conjure up a Patronus earlier that year. It may not be age that decides how advanced your magic is, but your experience, and even though we are only in our fifth year, I think we've seen more than… many," she finishes.

"I never knew that," Sirius mumbles and thinks about his godson. He admits that Harry has indeed been in a lot more danger than Sirius himself had been at the same age. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hermione take a larger gulp of wine that before.

_I could get in so much trouble because of this._

"Please, don't underestimate us, Sirius, just because we are young."

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." Suddenly he is curious if Hermione can conjure up her Patronus yet. Does she know that her Patronus is an otter? He loves the otter's sleek lines and quick jumps, and can't resist asking for it. "Have you… Do you know what your Patronus is, Hermione?"

"Yes."

"And what is it?"

"Guess," she says and smiles.

_Otter, otter, otter._

"Eh, I don't know. A cat perhaps? Or a fox? A bird of some sort?"

She doesn't answer, but pulls her wand out of the messy bun her hair is in and closes her eyes. Hungrily Sirius watches her hair fall down around her face and shoulders and her jaw tense in concentration. He almost forgets to watch the silvery otter that suddenly appears from her wand. The silvery light is however too strong to be ignored and he watches the small animal run around the room before it dissolves.

"Brilliant," he whispers. "Beautiful."

"I wonder why it is an otter," Hermione muses. "I love it, but before I saw it I would never have guessed my Patronus is an otter. I would also have guessed a cat, like you did."

_Yes, Kitten._

She speaks more freely now and Sirius knows it's his and his damned wine's fault.

_Maybe I should just drink up and say 'good night'_

But he doesn't. He listens to Hermione when she tells him about Hogwarts of 1995. It's different than the Hogwarts he knew sixteen years earlier. He shares some of his school memories with her. Safe ones. Memories where he compares himself and James to Fred and George Weasley, and Remus, the voice of reason, to her. This makes her blush again.

It's harder than he thought to talk about his schooldays with James, without mentioning her, when she sits right in front of him. The silence isn't uncomfortable though. She gazes into the fire, he watches her. He can't tell if she is really sleepy or if her mind is drawing conclusions by its own accord.

_You never got sleepy from wine, love. What happened was that your deduction and reasoning made larger leaps. Scary when you could pick up on an unfinished conversation from hours before. _

"How do you know that I hate snow?" she asks and meets his eyes.

_Sleepy? No._

"I guess someone told me," he says, rises and puts two more logs on the fire.

"No." There is something about her tone. Something that makes him feel uncertain. He shrugs.

"Then I guess you must have told me yourself."

"No," she says again.

"But why does it matter? Maybe someone told me that another girl hates snow and I somehow confused you two."

She looks at him with her head cocked to one side. She looks at him as if she doesn't believe him.

_I can't really tell you that I know this from an afternoon where you told me you hate snow after I had made the most inappropriate remarks about your naked breasts, and their shape made me ask questions about that bizarre muggle sport. Skying? Skating? Skiing?_

Sirius yawns and stretches.

_I need to leave now, before I put my foot in it ever further._

"I think we should leave this room for Santa to visit tonight," he says lightly, and she rolls her eyes, before she smiles and gets up.

"You are right. Oh!" She is a little unsteady and Sirius grits his teeth and curses himself and the wine he keeps in his cellar even though no one drinks it. He doesn't ask anyone if they want it. He saves it for her and keeps a bottle chilled among the other bottles on the sideboard. He takes her arm to steady her and lead her out of the library. The glass, he notices, is empty.

She is not about to leave, though. She takes a step into his arms and looks up at him.

"Good night, Sirius," she says, rises on her toes and kisses him.

Maybe she aims for his cheek and he moves, or maybe she really does aim for his lips and he does nothing to stop her. When she withdraws with a horrified look in her eyes, he takes her softly around her upper arms and stops her from turning around and running out of the room.

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry," she says. "I don't know what…"

But he knows, he can read it in her eyes. He places a finger on her lips to silence her.

"Don't be sorry, love. I'm flattered, to say the least."

The panic in her eyes dies, and he sees only what he wants to see. What he sees in his dreams. Very quietly he asks:

"Do you want me to kiss you back, love?"

Hermione nods slowly once and rises on her toes again. Sirius is blind and deaf to any voice of reason. He kisses her tenderly. Somewhere in his mind he gets the feeling of a key in a rusty, rarely used lock, unlocking what's hidden inside without difficulty. As if all it needed was the right key.

He knows how to kiss her senseless but doesn't. His fingers act however on their own accord to find the hollow at the back of her neck, just below her hairline. And, Merlin help him, he strokes her skin in a way that makes her gasp and press herself against him. As if her reaction to his caresses is something she knows. Maybe she does. He wonders how many boys she has kissed before when she opens her lips to him and lets him taste her. He does. He might be cursed to any level of hell for doing so, but he does. He feels her cheeks growing hot against his face and knows he needs to end this before he can't. Lovingly, with closed eyes, he ends the kiss, but keeps her close with his forehead to hers.

"One day, love, when you are a little older, I will turn around and see you in a completely different light. If you then look at me like you just did, I will never leave your side again."

_I can't possibly be stupid enough to send you away again._

"But please give me, and yourself, a little more time."

He feels her nod slowly again.

"Now go to bed, and sweet dreams, darling."

He turns her around and pushes her softly towards the door. As if hypnotised she leaves. Sirius watches her leave and grabs the desk behind him to prevent himself from following her. Not until he hears her door closing several floors up, does he let go of the sturdy piece of furniture. The key in his mind doesn't click the lock to closed, though.

His hands shake and he pours himself another glass of firewhisky, which he downs at once. He doesn't give a fuck about Santa, and stretches out on the couch. Surrounded by the scent and taste of her he closes his eyes. In Azkaban he could fall asleep and dream of nothing, by sheer willpower. He can still fall asleep almost anywhere, but he can no longer control his dreams. He dreams of his past and her future.

**2 January**

**Hermione**

When Harry, Hermione, Ginny and all the Weasley brothers have said their good-byes and are ready to leave, Sirius pulls Hermione aside.

"I have something for you. And, yes, it's a book, of course."

Hurriedly he pushes a small parcel into her hands. It's wrapped in brown paper.

"Don't open it now. I hope you'll like it."

Hermione doesn't know what to say, and then he quickly kisses her cheek and ushers her out of the door.

"Thank you," she mimes to him. He stands with Remus on the top of the stairs at 12 Grimmauld Place and she doubts he sees her. His eyes seems fixed on Harry, with a worried expression.

Later, in her room at her parents' house she opens the gift.

The unassuming pale cover with its dark golden but empty frame lacks the title of the book, and on the second page Sirius's bold handwriting in sepia ink speaks to her stronger than all the following sonnets put together.

_Dear H,_

_My knowledge of the muggle world is indeed limited, but I want you to have this. You will be 18 forever, to me._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

_X_

_PS. If you ever want to sell it, just use an Atramento Evanesco and no dealer in antique books will ever trace the sacrilege I just committed. _

She knows immediately she'll never sell it, not matter how rare a first edition of Shakespeare's sonnets is.


	4. Summer 1996

**Chapter 4**

**18 June 1996 **

**Sirius**

And then Bellatrix catches him by surprise and hits him square in the chest with an _Avada Kedavra_. Distantly he hears her cackle "I killed Sirius Black" in her taunting, shrill voice and he knows she doesn't lie, or even exaggerate, this time. His mind is suddenly crystal clear and filled with the two people he loves most. Harry and Hermione. He has been momentarily distracted by the sight of Hermione in the hands of an unknown Death Eater at his, and the rest of the Order's, arrival, but has managed to shake it off. He knows with absolute certainty that she will make it out of the Department of Mysteries unharmed, or at least alive, because he knows she will be alive two years later. Sometimes he feels that is the only thing in the world he knows.

_But Harry? _

_He has, and will have Hermione._

_Oh, yes._

He releases his last breath and feels the veil in the strange archway pull him towards it. It is not an unpleasant feeling. The unclear voices he has been aware of in the room are suddenly stronger, and with a pang of joy he recognises them. James. Lily. Regulus. Marlene. He is just about to let go completely when his darkest thought yet fills his mind.

_I will not be here for when I send her back from the past. I will send her back to a future I'm no longer part of._

The rest is silence.

**18 June 1996 **

**Hermione**

She screams. Not as loud as Harry does, and she does not know that the heart-breaking cry that echoes in her ears comes from her own mouth. Heart. Soul. If she were asked later she would assume that the impossible image of Sirius falling, fading, and dissolving into the strange veil that suddenly appears in the empty archway, also gives off this blood-curdling cry.

When she and the four other DA-members arrived in the dark, circular room, the archway was empty. When Sirius falls through it, it fills with… something. Something Hermione knows Sirius can't be found behind, even if it looks as if he could be there, just on the other side. It looks harmless enough; a dark, tattered, semi-transparent veil, but she knows it isn't. Not harmless at all.

No, she does not know that she screams. She doesn't know anything except that what she hoped for in the future can't and won't happen. Sirius is gone and the fluttering butterflies that have danced inside her every time she has thought about him since Christmas, die and burn an empty hole inside her. As the seconds pass she feels the hole fill with pain. She closes her eyes to it, nearly fainting or vomiting by the pain's raw intensity.

_Azure. A dusty cloud of azure blue. Why?_

Hermione focuses on this inner picture, focuses on anything to get away from the pain inside her.

It's pieces of a jigsaw puzzle with more than half of the picture azure blue sky. Not a single piece is joined with another. Most of the pieces are jagged, ripped, burned. She will never see the whole picture. She had only just begun putting the pieces together.

Her eyes flick open when she hears Remus Lupin roar "No!" and sees Harry tear away from him and bolt for the door of the room. Somewhere in her mind she knows she should go after him, she always does. Back-up, protection, support, but now she doesn't care. What is the point? She doesn't care, even when she realises that he has gone after Bellatrix, who cast the killing curse. She can't move, so what is the point of caring, wanting, aspiring? Or trying?

The Death Eater behind her suddenly disappears, and without his wand against her windpipe she collapses on the dirty floor. She is dizzy from lack of oxygen, but she doesn't breathe in.

_If I just don't… Maybe it will go dark and quiet… And stay so…_

Involuntarily she draws breath when someone grips her around her shoulder and pulls her up. With her eyes closed she doesn't know who it is. It's not Harry or Ron, she knows their timid touches. It's not Ginny or Luna, and she knows Neville is out, knocked unconscious by one curse or another. And why would any of them care? Those who can move will of course run after Harry. They always do, expecting her to be the first among the supporting troops.

"Come on, Hermione. Not here. Let's keep it together a little bit longer. Harry needs us. We have to…"

_Remus Lupin. How did he get from there to here? And why? Why isn't he running after Harry now? Harry is his pet protégé. Not quite godson, but he's competing for a role of similar importance as godfather. Well, congratulations, Remus. He's all yours now._

When Remus slaps her not too gently across her face, she opens her eyes and cries out when she sees her own pain reflected in his amber eyes.

"Not now, Hermione. We'll deal with this later. Sirius is gone, but Harry isn't. He has gone after Bellatrix and I'd rather she didn't kill both of those closest to us tonight."

She leans into his embrace and refuses to move, speak or think. When she decides to not draw in breath again and begins to close her eyes, Remus shakes her hard.

"Damn it, Hermione! I know how you feel about him… felt about him. He did too. But her loves… he loved Harry as well, and you should, you _must_ honour that. Now!"

The contradictory words and tone shakes her out of her daze.

_Harry. Oh, Harry! Don't… don't you dare get yourself killed too…_

Clumsily she begins running, but when she passes the archway with the misty barrier, she slows down to a halt. Voices. Only one in particular discernible. The one she saw fade away.

_I'll be grateful to you forever… You are too compassionate… Brilliant… Beautiful… Don't be sorry, love… I will turn around and see you in a completely different light… I will never leave your side again…_

Suddenly the veil that seemed frightening seconds ago is welcoming. It pulls her towards it. Hermione turns on her heel and is just about to touch it with her raised hand when the same strong hands as before grab her around her shoulders and jerk her back hard and painfully. She feels Remus's hard and quick heartbeats against her back, and can't move and can barely breathe in his relentless grip.

"Just an echo, love. He's not there. Trust me. You will not meet him there. Not there."

She doesn't understand Remus's words, but follows him listlessly. He holds her hand so hard she accepts that she will not be able to do what she was about to. The only thing she wants to. To follow that voice. She will go back and do it later. When everyone else watches Harry die, or kill Bellatrix, or turn into a three-headed unicorn or something else that won't surprise or move her tonight.

But what happens in the Atrium shakes her out of her state of shock.

Voldemort. In Harry. As if the lizard-like monster isn't sickeningly horrifying by himself, he is suddenly inside Harry.

_This is what possession looks like._

For the umpteenth time she forgets to breathe. Remus has let go of her hand, but instead of going back to where she came from, she grabs the person closest to her. It's Ron, and there is nothing timid about his touch now. They hold on to each other as if on a mountaintop in a hurricane.

And then it's over, and nothing is like before. Minister Fudge is there, in his striped pyjamas and ridiculous bowler hat. After his short "He's back!" he gapes like a fish out of water and nothing more of importance will ever pass his lips. Fudge doesn't care about Harry, he never has, but Hermione does. She and Ron sprint to Harry, slip and fall on their knees in the ashy dust that covers everything. Still holding on to each other they watch their friend.

_Is he here? Or will his eyes be all red and reptile-like when he opens them? If he opens them?_

But he does and it's Harry who looks back at them. Hermione can see that he has no idea what has just happened, but she can also see his pain. And fear. And helplessness. And grief.

_Now what? How will we ever be able to go on? Up against… And without…_

Then Dumbledore snatches Harry out of her sight and into the flashes of the reporters from god knows what news media. She still clings to Ron and he pulls her away from the centre of attention.

Ron is not a man of many words, especially in emotional matters. In an unthinkable tragedy such as tonight he says nothing. His hands and arms around her speak for him, though. He shares her pain and panic, but in silence. She wishes the silence would go on for ever and ever.

The days after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries Hermione cries with Harry over the loss of Sirius, caring less about what Voldemort plans and what the Daily Prophet writes about Harry. Ron is also with them, but more reserved in his grief, if he grieves at all. She means no disrespect with that. Ron has such a large family, so many people he can call his own. Neither Harry nor Hermione has that many people close to them in the magical world. Hermione's parents are so very… muggle. In a good and respectful way, but still light-years away from her life at Hogwarts with her wizards and witches-friends. During those horrible first days after the battle, she sees other people watching them, and she can read their minds in their expressions.

_Oh, poor young ones._

_Such a supportive friend to Harry._

_Maybe that Black wasn't what we thought, after all._

_Thank Merlin, they have each other._

During the informal memorial service with the Order at 12 Grimmauld Place she restrains herself from crying. She fears she will go mad with grief, and the chosen place for the gathering makes her cringe. She doesn't go into the library, but keeps to Harry's side, listening to when professor Dumbledore and then Remus Lupin speak about their fallen Order member. She tries to imagine they speak about someone else than the man she dreams about at night, and whose words in the dedication in the book of sonnets replay themselves in his voice inside her.

Remus Lupin often glances in her direction with an expression she can't decipher, and after the service she reluctantly lets go of Harry and walks over to their former Defense teacher with two cups of tea. He takes the proffered cup and smiles sadly.

"I'm sorry for your loss, professor Lupin," she says.

"It's Remus, Hermione. I'm no longer your professor."

She blushes and feels very young. She has thought about Sirius as Sirius for years, but still isn't comfortable with the werewolf's first name. She has been writing letters to her former professor ever since he resigned from his teaching position, and he has written her back, frequently. The letters have always been about their common thirst for knowledge, and Remus has in many ways remained in his teaching role.

"And I'm sorry for your loss, Hermione."

She feels dizzy by his direct words.

_He means all of you. Harry, Ron and you._

"Well, yes… I don't know how Harry… It really was the absolute worse that could…" Normally a girl of many words and perfect phrasing, she lets her voice trail off.

Remus takes a step closer to her and she can see that his eyes are really golden, despite being red-rimmed from grief.

"Do you remember what I said? That night? When you were about to do something very foolish in the Department of Mysteries? In front of that veil?"

Hermione does not want to keep eye contact with him any longer but there is something so persuasive about his soft voice. She nods almost imperceptibly.

"You heard his voice, didn't you? I know I did. Sirius's voice."

"Yes, yes I did. Why?"

"The voices you hear in front of any of the magical barriers between the living and the dead are voices of those you love who have died. I heard other voices as well. James's. Lily's. My father's. But I know that they are gone and that I cannot get them back by joining them myself."

Hermione looks down and blows on her tea. Remus continues.

"I could see how drawn you were to him. When…"

Hermione flinches and meets his eyes in horror.

"Was I…? Could everyone…? I feel so foolish, so child…"

"Stop. No, don't say that. And no, everyone could not see it. I could. And he could."

Hermione blushes and forces herself to wait for Remus to continue.

"And it troubled him a great deal."

Hermione's heart sinks and Remus takes her softly around her shoulders, distancing them a bit from the others.

"Not in a bad way, love. But you are still so very young, and he had seen you…" Remus breaks off. "… had seen so much, and lived such a horrible life in so many ways."

She feels herself tear up and gulps down her tea, forcing herself to be realistic, rational and unsentimental. She can't allow herself to give in, not here, not now, and not with Remus Lupin of all people. Not with anyone.

"And now it doesn't matter how old I get. Nothing will ever come out of what I may or may not feel. Nothing ever happened, and nothing ever will. I need to go, Remus. I'll be seeing you around. Keep in touch with Harry, he really needs it."

She takes a step back and he follows her with a firmer hold around her shoulders. She finds herself in his arms and tries not to think.

"Of course I will. And you too. Don't stop writing. You really are exceptionally bright. I enjoy our correspondence. Sirius knew it too, the brightest witch of your age."

"Not just his age," she mutters wryly before she can stop herself.

She feels him kiss her softly on her cheek. With his lips to her skin he whispers words that will confuse her and haunt her for years.

"Brightest witch of his age too, love. Never forget that."

**Summer 1996**

"I need to study," are the most frequent words Hermione uses during that summer. The first couple of weeks her parents let her lock herself in her room and pretend to do just that.

She doesn't. She has bought all the books for her sixth year, and she hasn't opened one of them. No, that is not true. She has opened one or another randomly picked book when she hears her mother's or her father's footsteps coming closer to her door, and every evening when she pretends to spend time with her parents in front of the telly she brings a special book. Most often she feigns sleep in the new IKEA sofa her parents have bought. She tries not to think of magic in any form. She tries not to think at all. When she feels she has to do something to prove to her parents that she is still alive she focuses on muggle things. Electricity. Ice cream from the freezer. Her bike. A glossy magazine with skinny models wearing British fashion. Her mother takes her shopping in Knightsbridge and Hermione lets her lavish her at Harvey Nichols. When her mother suggests the trendy The Library at Brompton Road, Hermione has had enough. The mere name brings memories of rows upon rows of dusty books. She can only think of the library at 12 Grimmauld Place, and she doesn't want to. Nothing she can buy at any High Street in London can even begin to compete with what she wants.

But for the duration of the summer she wears only her new clothes or old clothes she's never brought to Hogwarts. She tries to forget that she has a life in another part of Britain, Magic Britain, and that she is supposed to go back there on the first of September. Sometimes she wishes she was just a normal muggle girls, without any magical abilities.

The book she brings down to her parents' living room every evening is a muggle book. As muggle as they come by its appearance, but to her it's the most magical thing in the world. It's the Christmas gift Sirius gave her.

_You will be 18 forever, to me._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

_X_

In sonnet no. 18 the son of a glover from Stratford-upon-Avon compares the object of his affection to a summer's day. Hermione feels nothing like a summer's day. The English summer's perfect lawns, cricket matches, iced glasses of Pimm's, flowery dresses, strawberries with cream are as far from how she feels as the next galaxy. The one exception would be the cricket ball. Too battered to care or move in a direction decided by its own will. But a cricket ball in the grimmest of February sub-zero temperature days. Forgotten and uncared for.

She reads and rereads the eighteenth sonnet until she knows it by heart. It's sweet and loving, but to her the line _Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade _is bittersweet. She feels as if she is constantly wandering in the shadow of death. Ever since she and Harry became friends, his parents' deaths have been central in their relationship. She often thinks about what Harry would have been like if he hadn't grown up with uncaring relatives. When Harry is reckless, overly stubborn or just merely thoughtless, she is quick to make mental excuses and compare her own upbringing with his.

Her parents have started to worry, she can tell by the looks they give her.

_Later. I'll deal with them later. Or should I tell them? Tell them what? Everything? About Voldemort in the Ministry? About Harry losing the one person he considered family? About me losing…?_

She sighs deeply and clutches the book to her chest. She has put the invaluable book in a soft pocket book cover with a map of London's Underground system. She will of course never sell it, no matter how much a first edition of the sonnets would bring from an auction at Bonhams or Christie's.

She hears her parents in the kitchen. She lies in the sofa in the living room on the other side of the wall, pretending to be asleep while Shakespeare's lines might lull her into real Dreamland.

"Is she asleep?" her mother asks and her father gives an affirmative murmur. "Do you think she is all right? She seems so withdrawn, hardly speaks to us. I mean, she's always independent and keeps to herself and her books, but she seems… depressed. What happened this year?"

Her father's low voice is more difficult to discern.

"…perhaps. If it goes on we'll sit down with her and ask her right out. But… …lives in another world than we do… …known this since she was eleven." His voice suddenly grows stronger. "But I've been thinking about going camping together, the three of us. We could go to the Forest of Dean, where we've been before. She can't bring all her books, and that might actually be good for her. Camping and fishing now in early August would be a break for us all. The practice is closed for another two weeks."

Her mother sounds delighted. Hermione is ambivalent.

_Can I spend so much time with them? Without crying all the time? I have to stop crying. I have no right to behave like this. To cry like I've lost my… what? It's not like… It's not like Sirius and I… What was it really? On Christmas Eve? Did he just pity me? Or did he take advantage of… No, of course not. But I need to stop crying!_

On her parents' sofa she lies very still, not wanting to draw their attention to her.

_Whatever did you mean, Remus, with your last words? Brightest witch of his age, too. And what did you mean that night, the night when Sirius… "You will not meet him there. Not there." As if I will meet him somewhere else. Or did you only try to stop me from going… touching… Oh, that misty, thin veil…. If I'd only…_

Her mother's bright voice interrupts her thought and inner monologues. Hermione listens to the plans for food and camping equipment and decides it's a good idea to get out of London and go camping. Change of venue. Her father makes tea and Hermione is just about to shake herself out of her reverie and join them in the kitchen when her mother's tone changes again.

"I saw Violet today," she says in a sad voice.

Violet is a friend of Hermione's mother. A year ago she lost her husband who suffered a severe stroke and never regained consciousness. Hermione knows that Violet has been cutting herself off in her grief and that everyone of her friends has been worrying. She picks up on her parents' conversation.

"I tried to tell her that William wouldn't have wanted her to grieve like this. To stop living, eating, working, seeing friends. Violet agrees with me, but says she can't. She says her life is over, that she doesn't want to live it without him. I've heard her children, they are Hermione's age and younger, are absolutely lost without her, living with relatives, feeling as if they have lost both parents, not just their father. I don't know how to help her. It just hurts to see her." Her mother sobs and Hermione hears her father's soothing low voice.

Her throat aches with unshed tears. When her father suggests they take their tea upstairs she is relieved beyond words. She draws her knees to he chest and cries silently. She knows her mother's words are important in another sense to her. Even if Sirius weren't ever, in any way, hers, he wouldn't have wanted her to grieve like she does. Hermione also knows that it would be good for her to talk to someone about how she feels, but whom?

_I can't tell Mum and Dad. Sirius was closer to their age than mine. And Harry? Yes, Hermione, what would Harry, your brother in everything but blood, think about you having feelings like this for his godfather? His dead godfather? No, I can't tell anyone. Not now. I must get over this alone._

Some nights she is afraid her tears will drown her, and she bites her knuckles raw to stop herself from screaming. Tonight, however, her tears that wet her face, hair and shirtsleeves, make her think about a river. Yes, it would be quite possible to drown in a river as well, but a river can take you places. Forward, for instance. And there are tears enough to create a river to… anywhere. With swollen eyelids, blocked nose and bleeding knuckles, Hermione falls into a half slumber. _So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see; So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. _The sonnet's last words will echo in her mind forever, but tonight her mind conjures up a picture to go with her memory of Sirius's voice.

_The river is here, in front of me. Is it really all my tears? The river doesn't look wide enough hold all my tears. I raise my hand and a small boat appears. I step into it. It has no oars, but slowly the boat drifts away. Away from now and this dreadful, lonely summer. I can glimpse something around the next bend. What is it? I know I've seen it before. It's… It's… Hogwarts._

In her dream she steps out of the small boat, which does not continue down the river, but stays by the riverbank. She is relieved to see that, the boat that waits for her if she would feel the need to continue after Hogwarts. With mixed, but mostly calm and resigned feelings she knows with absolute certainty than the boat will never taker her upstream again. It will not take her back to where she has been this summer, alone with a grief she cannot share. Her darkest feelings, mingled with her strongest feelings of love and longing and yearning she left where she found the boat. She decides to leave them there and go on without, for no one will ever evoke what Sirius could do with only his voice, in her.


	5. The academic year 1996-1997

**Chapter 5**

**1996-1997**

Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts is an emotional roller coaster.

She arrives at the Burrow the last week in August. Molly Weasley has invited both Harry and her the last couple of years to come shopping with the family in Diagon Alley before the academic year begins.

Harry isn't at the Burrow when Hermione gets there, and she is disappointed. She has missed him all summer and she wonders how he handles his grief after Sirius. Sometimes she has even considered telling Harry about her own feelings for his godfather. She knows now that she never will. It would shock him, repulse him and wouldn't be helpful to any of them. She will have to make do with the sympathy Remus offered her at the memorial service. He knows, he doesn't pass judgment on her feelings and he will never reveal her secret.

Hermione spends a few days with Ginny, Ron, Fred and George. Their general intensity in discussions, games or, in the twins' case, mischief, exhausts her and, at the same time, heals and comforts her somewhat. This is her generation of witches and wizards. This is where she belongs. Even if she never falls in love again, she can still live a fulfilling life with her friends around her. Sometimes when Ron looks at her, she sees his twin brothers exchange looks and smirk. This makes her feel apprehensive. Ron looks at her in a new way. Sometimes he looks at her appreciatively and sometimes shyly.

_Can he tell I'm different than before? Does my grief show?_

On the night Harry arrives, Ron, quite needlessly, points out that she has toothpaste on her lip, and even touches her to wipe it off. She flinches and he blushes. Later Harry, Ron and she sit around a smoldering newspaper and laugh like before. Even though she is in someone else's home, with all her belongings in a trunk, she feels at home. Safe. Part of her wants time to stop.

The shopping trip to Diagon Alley is a strange mix of the brightest lights and the shadiest darks.

Fred and George's joke shop is a success. The two eighteen-year-old brothers have shaped up, prancing around their shop in snakeskin jackets and dragonskin boots, so unlike the boys she has known for years and spent so many late summers with in Ottery St. Catchpole. The brothers come up to her and Ginny as they examine the pink vials of love potions. Hermione does it because Ginny does, she has no interest in the product itself. Fred teases his sister about Dean, whom Ginny is dating, while George assures them that the love potions really work.

_It just won't conjure up love. Infatuation and obsession, but not the real thing._

The pink vials are highly popular though, and Hermione realizes she is in for a year with broken hearts and constant declarations of eternal love. Not from herself, mind. Her heart is already broken. But she's listened to Ginny long enough the last week to see it happening. The eternal love of teenagers. She has also seen how Harry looks at Ginny. It unsettles her.

"All right there, Granger?" George asks her in a concerned voice, nothing like his salesman-chanting in tune with Fred.

"Yes, sure."

"Anyone you'd like to slip that potion to?" he grins.

She blushes and shakes her head. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Cormac McLaggen, a handsome boy in the 7th year, try to catch her attention with a sly smile. Quickly she puts the vial back and tries to remember what George just said.

"I can see a few fellows who wouldn't need it," George says with a friendly grin.

"Oh?"

_What is he talking about?_

"Little brother, for instance. He just doesn't know it yet."

She is back on track and realizes what they are talking about, and blushes even harder. When Fred calls George over, she walks in the opposite direction of Cormac McLaggen.

_Ron? Would he be interested in me? Like that?_

When they are about to leave Lavender Brown chirps "Hi!" to Ron without even seeing Harry or Hermione. It puts Hermione in a foul mood.

_But Ron is my friend. He is free to have other friends as well. Girlfriends. _

Suddenly Hermione is ill at ease at the prospect of Ron having a girlfriend, Lavender or anyone else. It bugs her in a completely different way than the way she has seen Harry look at Ginny. She tries to tell herself that Ron would be much more prone to 'disappear' into a relationship than Harry. Or that she knows that she'll always have Harry. Harry will always need her and want her as a sister and a best friend, whereas Ron has brothers and a sister and doesn't really need her in that way. She doesn't want to lose Ron to… Lavender. Not to anyone.

But before they leave Diagon Alley all thoughts of girlfriends and relationships vanish when Harry, Ron and Hermione see Draco Malfoy and his mother hesitantly sneak down Knockturn Alley and into Borgin and Burkes. They spy from the roof on the other side of the alley, but can make out very little from what they see. Dirty windowpanes, Draco opening a large cabinet and looking inside, Mrs Malfoy talking to Mr Borgin. The mere place gives Hermione the creeps, and she catches a glimpse of a man, no a werewolf behaving like a man. Nothing like professor Lupin at full moon. This man is in full control, despite being at least half transformed, going by his canine traits. Knockturn Alley has always been a place for strange and dark creatures, but Hermione realizes how close to a war they are when werewolves can move around freely, even in Knockturn Alley, a stone's throw from Diagon Alley.

Harry is certain Draco has become a Death Eater now, and that whatever they saw in Borgin and Burkes was some kind of initiation ceremony. Hermione laughs at this. Not that she finds it unbelievable or even unlikely that Draco one day will end up a Death Eater like his father, but that Harry is even surprised. It is as if Harry has been waiting for Draco to turn around, see the light and mend his ways for all the years they have known him. Of course even Draco has light inside him, and given the right circumstances he would be a decent young man, but he is raised by two of Voldemort's most devoted servants, so what were his chances to begin with? Hermione has looked into Draco's eyes when he has called her 'Mudblood' and she knows he actually believes it. To Hermione Draco is a lost cause. There is nothing she can do or say to change him. Maybe someone else can, but Hermione's energy is better spent on others.

Soon the academic year is upon them and classes and assignments keep them on their toes all the time. Hermione happily edits Harry's and Ron's essays. She'll do anything for them. She even attends the Quidditch try-outs that Harry, now team captain for Gryffindor, is holding. From her place on the stands, Hermione thinks about how good he looks in his red and gold uniform. A proper Quidditch captain, all focused on the sport. Like a normal 16-year-old boy whose world consists of Ouidditch, school, friends, crushes on girls and broken teenage hearts. Not a 16-year-old boy who is the subject of a prophecy, which could decide his destiny as a savior of the world… or someone who perishes while trying to save the world.

Suddenly she sees Lavender Brown a few rows below her. She hears Lavender giggle about Ron, how handsome she finds him, how strong he looks, what a pretty smile he has, and Hermione is repulsed. She agrees with Lavender on all points, Ron really has a pretty smile, but she hates the idea of anyone else thinking so. Especially someone like Lavender. Someone who doesn't know Ron. Doesn't know how truly brave, loyal and passionate he is. Hermione suspects Lavender has noticed Ron for being Harry Potter's best friend, younger brother to the successful Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, perhaps, as the older brother to the popular Ginny. Lavender doesn't really know Ron. Not like Hermione. Lavender doesn't know the insecurity Ron always has felt compared to Harry. Lavender doesn't know how to tiptoe around Ron, when he is in a bad mood, when he's better off alone for a while.

Cormac McLaggen winks at her with that insipid smile of his. He reminds her of a leech, slimy and hungry. Cormac and Ron are both trying for Keeper in the Quidditch team. He says something to his mates about Weasley being an easy match, and Hermione's blood starts to boil. No one talks about her Ron that way! Minutes later she does something she never thought she would.

_'__Confundus.' Serves you right, Cormac. Keep off the Quidditch pitch. You wouldn't recognize a fair game if it came up and bit you in the arse._

Her simmering anger dies down when Ron gets the place as Keeper and everyone, especially Lavender, cheers. She is angry a lot these days. In some ways she likes it. Anger makes her focused and keeps her hidden grief at bay. She knows that her Confundus charm made the try-outs unfair, but she doesn't care. There are many things she doesn't care about anymore. She is even less social than before, doesn't look for new acquaintances at all. Keeps to herself in the evenings if Harry or Ron doesn't join her in the Gryffindor common room. She studies even harder than before, to keep her mind off where it always goes when she doesn't guard it.

One late evening in the library she asks Madame Pince for the Hogwarts yearbooks from the late 70's. She knows Harry looked in them a lot in his first year, when he suddenly was thrown into the world his parents had belonged to, and craved any information about James and Lily that had been withheld for the first eleven years of his life. She had left him alone then, not knowing him well enough to be comfortable staying. As he had been then, she is now alone, and it isn't James and Lily she is interested in.

She dreams about Sirius at night. Sometimes, at dawn, she panics over the raw emotions her dreams leave her with.

_'…__I will never leave your side again…'_

And then Remus's words.

_'__Brightest witch of his age too.'_

_I need to get him out of my mind. I'll go mad. I'm afraid to go to sleep, yet I want nothing but to hear his voice again. 'Beautiful. Brilliant. I will turn around and see you…' _

Hesitantly she opens the yearbook of 1977, the Marauders' sixth year. It's two years before she was born, and she wants to focus on the fact that Sirius and she were of different generations to begin with, and that he was the age she is now before she was even born.

He sits very still in his portrait, looking haughty and bored. Remus Lupin has hinted a few times that Sirius was something of a womanizer during his last Hogwarts years, and Hermione can certainly see how easy it would have been for him. The older Black brother is handsome in a way that makes her think of fashion magazines, all cheekbones, jaw, dark hair and smoldering eyes. The slightly up-turned corner of the mouth. The square shoulders. Same as two decades later. Same as in June.

Later in the book there are photos from different feasts held during the year. Halloween, Christmas, graduation. At the Christmas feast there is a photo of Sirius and a girl with short, dark hair. Marlene McKinnon the caption reads, and that is the only picture of the five she finds of Sirius, where he looks relatively happy.

_Who were you, Marlene? Were you his girlfriend? I know you died in an attack just weeks before Voldemort killed James and Lily, but were you with him up until then?_

Hermione opens the book of the year when Sirius graduated from Hogwarts, and there are more pictures of him. As in the previous book, there are more pictures of the graduation class at the end of the book. There is a ball for the seventh year students at the beginning of June. Sirius shows up with Marlene at his side again. There is something different about him, he looks truly happy in the picture, even though he keeps looking to his left, out of the picture. She follows his gaze to the next picture. It shows Remus Lupin dancing with a girl she can't place. The girl keeps her face hidden from the camera, with her head pressed to Remus's shoulder. Hermione sees Remus talk and smile while he swirls his unknown date around, but the girl keeps being elusive. There is nothing that indicates that it's them that Sirius is looking at; it might be just how the editor of the yearbook chose to place the pictures from the Graduation Ball, but Hermione is curious about this unknown girl. Somehow she recognizes her.

The other pictures of Sirius in the book are with James, Remus and Peter. There is one with his younger brother Regulus, and their looks of superiority match each other. No brotherly love there.

_Will this help? Will I stop dreaming about him now, or will this only add to what my mind decides to haunt me with every night?_

It helps. At least a little. Maybe because she now knows that she can go back to the yearbooks to just look, should she need it. And something else happens to take her mind off her grief and longing for a past she can never be a part of. Lavender Brown happens. After the first Quidditch match of the year, where Ron keeps the Quaffle out of the Gryffindor goals while his sister goes after the Snitch, Lavender throws herself at Ron and kisses him as she tried to swallow him whole. And Lavender is so damn pretty with her sleek, blonde curls, pretty face and curvy body, Hermione feels like a grey mouse in comparison. A grey mouse with decidedly frizzy hair. George Weasley who had hinted that Ron would see Hermione like he now sees, kisses, touches, lifts Lavender was all wrong. She turns on her heel and runs, not really caring where. It's not until she is outside the common room she notices that she is crying, or realizes why.

She wants to be that girl. That girl in Ron's arms. She wants to keep Ron close to her, by any means, and being in the sixth year suggests that Lavender's way is rather efficient. Hermione knows how safe Ron's arms are, even if she hasn't felt them nearly as often as Harry's. But Ron held her in June, while they watched Harry being possessed by Voldemort, and Sirius had fallen through that veil, that barrier between the living and the dead. Ron's embrace then was all that, literally, kept her from running back into that circular room and with her eyes open go straight through that misty veil.

And now someone else is in his arms. A girl she can never even begin to compete with. Lavender is out-going, pretty, funny… nothing like the serious, always studying bookworm that Hermione is. She feels so alone when she sinks down on the last step of the stairs leading to the summer gym. It's cold and autumn leaves litter the floor.

_Calm down. Breathe. Stop crying. Don't think about it. Just don't think at all. Conjure something up. Anything._

_"__Avis."_

A flock of greenfinches circles around her, chirping happily, which makes her even more depressed. She hears footsteps behind her, but hasn't got the energy to break the spell. She has a hunch it's Harry and she is right. Hesitantly he sits down and she can sense he is trying to find something to say. She is terrified that he will, and turns the table on him, asking him about Ginny, baring all she knows about what he thought was his secret.

And then they come in, Lavender and Ron, touching, kissing, giggling. Lavender starts to say something and tries to pull Ron with her, Hermione isn't really listening to what she says.

_"__Oppugno."_

The jinxed birds turn into tiny, feathered missiles going after Ron. They don't harm him, but they certainly wipe that silly grin off his face. He looks at her, bewildered. What did he expect? That she would celebrate losing him? When he leaves, she is left standing, crying. She knows that her feelings aren't what they should be. She isn't romantically jealous of Lavender. She just wants Ron close. She can't bear the thought of losing anyone else. Even if Ron, hopefully, isn't dying.

_That would be from asphyxiation, then._

When her knees give out, she sinks down on the step again. Harry is there and he says what he thinks she wants to hear. That he knows how she feels, what this unrequited love feels like, and she cries even harder, because she is ashamed of her possessiveness of Ron. It has nothing to do with romantic love. It's need and comfort and safety and friendship. She will never fall in love. She knows she will never feel what she did for Sirius, for anyone, and she knows it's unfair to Ron to want him on those grounds. Of course he deserves someone who loves him like Harry loves Ginny. Like Lavender loves him.

Hermione has, for some reason, been invited to the Slug Club, Professor Slughorn's dinner party club of elected students. She can't understand why, she is doing terribly in Potions.

Their new Potions teacher is a lot better than professor Snape, but his assignments are difficult in a way that their previous professor never bothered to make them. Professor Snape's lack of interest in both his students and teaching made the first five years in Potions easy for someone like Hermione who had read all their textbooks before the beginning of term. The very first class with Professor Slughorn, Hermione got extra points for being ahead of her class, but after that, things have not gone her way. The same first class she also made a fool of herself when their new professor opened a cauldron of Amortentia and she singled out each individual scent the love potion caused her to smell. All scents Sirius. Grass, parchment and spearmint toothpaste. She had stopped herself before she added fire whiskey, damp books in an old library, and a tiny hint of dog.

Harry is, for reasons unknown, doing splendidly. Perhaps it's because Professor Snape isn't there to taunt him, but Hermione believes it has to do with that old Potions book Harry got. There are more handwritten notes than printed text in it, and Hermione thinks Harry should hand it in to professor Dumbledore. The notes are not only about Potions. Some are vaguely malevolent, bordering on the Dark Arts, if their instructions are to be taken seriously.

Professor Slughorn is something of a mystery. No professor before him has ever showed so much personal interest in his students. Or at least his somehow famous students. Or very gifted. Harry is both, Hermione is neither. But Professor Slughorn knows her name, did so the very first class, when he looked inquiringly at her. As if he recognized her. In a fit of jealousy, when Ron appeared in the common room with a love-bite on his neck, she has invited Cormac McLaggen to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, but now she regrets it. Hermione kind of likes the thought of the handsome Cormac, in her mind's eye, but when she spends more than a minute in the same room he always disappoints. Now he pulls her close under a sprig of mistletoe in a dark corner of the festive room, strokes her bare arm and mumbles something she can't hear.

"Sorry?"

"I was just saying what a pretty dress you're wearing." He lets his fingers dance to the inside, the wrong side, of the straps of her dress and touches her softly. She wants to scream but his lips over hers stop any sound.

_Isn't this what you wanted? You wanted someone to fill that void inside, not caring in the least about love. Cormac is handsome, rather clever, well liked, popular. You could do a lot worse._

Something compels her to speak, something about slowing down, but Cormac obviously mistakes this for a moan of pleasure and pushes his tongue into her mouth.

_Oh God, I'm going to be sick._

Hermione shoves him away and escapes his hands when he just laughs and tries to catch her, in what he thinks is a playful game of catch-me-if-you-can. On the verge of tears she hides behind a thin curtain where Harry finds her. When Cormac spots them and zooms in, Harry promises her to stall him.

She is just about to leave, when Professor Slughorn comes waddling towards her.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he says and watches her in that intense way he has. As if he is trying to see inside her. It's nothing like Cormac's gaze; he has no interest in what goes on inside of her. Professor Slughorn's look is more unnerving, actually. She could never shove him away and run. Nervously she meets his eyes and smiles, expecting to exchange pleasantries about the upcoming holiday.

"Lovely party, professor," she lies.

"Thank you, dear. I've been meaning to ask you about you background in Potions, Miss Granger."

"My background," she stammers. "Well, I got an Outstanding in my O.W.L.s. Mainly because the written exam was on Polyjuice Potion."

"Oh. Are you familiar with Polyjuice, Miss Granger?"

_Damn. I shouldn't have said that._

"Well, yes. I… eh, came across it in my second year. And then, of course, I don't know if you heard about the year we held the Triwizard Tournament here. A Death Eater, Mr Crouch Jr, impersonated Alastor Moody for a whole year on Polyjuice."

"Yes, yes, I heard. Terrible business. But an Outstanding on your O.W.L.s, Miss Granger, that is extraordinary. Are you particularly interested in Potions?"

_What is he after? It is as if he wants me to tell him something without him having to ask._

"I'm interested in all magic that can help us fight Dark Magic and the return of Voldemort," she says and looks him straight in the eye. Professor Slughorn doesn't flinch at Voldemort's name, but changes the subject.

"I am merely looking for a bright student to conduct extracurricular research into the Wolfsbane Potion for the next academic year, and wondered if you might be interested, Miss Granger?"

Hermione doesn't know what to say, but the way professor Slughorn watches her apprehensively, makes her chose her words carefully.

"I'm very interested in the Wolfsbane Potion, sir, as I believe the werewolves are a group in our community treated very unfairly. But, as for being bright, I don't seem to be doing that well this year. Have you asked Harry, Mr Potter, sir?"

"Oh, but you are doing very well, Miss Granger. So you take a personal interest in the werewolves, do you? Do you perhaps have friends who suffer from Lycanthropy?"

_That cunning, shrewd look you have, professor? What is it you're really asking?_

"Well, I think you know I'm a friend of Remus Lupin's from the year he taught us Defense here at Hogwarts."

"Mr Lupin, yes. Very sad. He would have been a great wizard had he not been bitten as a child."

"He IS a great wizard!" she snaps. "Sir."

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry Miss Granger. Just think about what I said. Are you perhaps familiar with the research of Damocles who invented the Potion in the mid-70's? Uncle of Marcus Belby?"

"No, not really, sir, but I will certainly look into it. It would be an honor to develop the Wolfsbane Potion with you, sir. There are side effects, you know."

"Yes, yes, I know, and there was actually some research done into this just a few years after Belby's uncle invented the potion. Conducted by a bright student of mine. Very promising."

"What happened to the research, sir?"

"I don't know. It disappeared. Together with the student. She was rather like you, Miss Granger. Thirsty for knowledge. Bright. Perhaps the brightest witch of her age, even. Well, think about my offer and let me know before the end of next term. It would be a degree project that would look really good in your academic resume, and open just about any doors you'd like to enter after Hogwarts. Oh, Lord, what is Severus doing here? I need to… Good bye, Miss Granger, and Merry Christmas."

Professor Slughorn leaves her before she has a chance to answer. A glimpse of Cormac gives her the energy to look for the door, but Cormac has a sickly greenish tinge and does not look for her. Harry stands behind Cormac, grinning at her, and she wonders what has happened behind that thin curtain where Harry stalled her pursuer.

_Why would Professor Slughorn ask me? And why would he be interested in the Wolfsbane Potion? It's not the kind of magic he's known to be interested in. The collector of young wizards and witches who will become famous. Why would he be interested in giving me a chance at that?_

At the end of the spring term Professor Dumbledore takes Harry on a journey with him, and when they return nothing will ever be the same again. During the time Harry and the Headmaster are away, things between Ron and Hermione get better. Hermione can share her worries about Harry, as can Ginny, and Ron is, once more, close and safe. A constant in her life. Perhaps the constant she would like her life to evolve around.

But then everything goes to hell. Hermione can't get it right, what is really happening. Professor Dumbledore falls off the tower outside his office, no, he is pushed, no, he is killed and then falls. And Harry tells her it was Draco's mission to kill the headmaster, but that Professor Snape took over and did it. All these years when they felt something was off with their former Potions professor, but were persuaded to trust him because Dumbledore did. Last year professor Snape, no just Snape now, he would never deserve his title in Hermione's mind again, had actually summoned the Order when Umbridge threatened to commit unforgivable crimes, and the Order had come. Had come to the Department of Mysteries and saved them. The price had been… Had Sirius's death gladden, or in any way satisfied Snape?

So, again, watching another fallen member of the good side, she clings to Ron and cries. She never knew Professor Dumbledore well, and she never understood him fully, but she trusted him, and without his calm, albeit somewhat distanced support, protection and upper hand over Lord Voldemort, she feels lost. Even more lost than before. It hurts somewhere other than in her heart. It hurts everywhere. She can almost see the responsibility float from the old man's motionless body and settle over herself, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey, the only ones in the large crowd under the tower that she trusts. They are in charge now, and she knows Harry well enough to see how she will have to fight him to share his war with her and Ron.

_This is war, isn't it? Now is the time. Time to stop pretending to care about school and jealous girlfriends and whether to trust someone or not. I won't trust anyone new. Never again._


	6. The year of the horcrux hunt 1997-1998

**And here, at last, is a truly new chapter of my story. I truly hope you'll like it, because there are about 15 more to follow, once a week, if that's what you want. Just tell me. Flattery will get you... everything...**

**Love, Kia**

**Chapter 6**

**1997-1998 The year of the horcrux hunt**

When Hermione, out of breath, stands in front of 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time since Sirius's memorial service more than a year ago, she doesn't want to go in. It has very little to do with the risk of coming across Severus Snape there, or any other Death Eater, for that matter. It has to do with whom she will never meet there again. She knows that the grimy, neglected façade mirrors its interior. Dead and empty. Sometimes, even though not as often as before, she dreams of the ancestral home of the Black family being filled with people and the smells of homemade cooking, laughter, Christmas. A first edition of Shakespeare's sonnets. Sirius. He is as distant as the Christmas dinner Molly Weasley once cooked in his kitchen. The only Christmas dinner ever cooked in his kitchen?

But Harry drags both Ron and her up the stairs, and taps the door with his wand.

_Will that really do the trick? There should be charms, jinxes._

"Technically, it's my house," Harry mutters. "But Mad-Eye thought all the security charms would only risk bringing the location to the attention of the muggles. If Snape or Malfoy come this way and try to force themselves in, the explosions or whatever would make even the muggles question the frequent earth tremors."

Seconds later Mad-Eye Moody's voice, a voice Hermione never thought she would hear again, asks them if they are Severus Snape. After that an illusion of Professor Dumbledore rises from the floor and points accusingly at the trio. Hermione begins to think she actually would prefer the emptiness of Grimmauld Place to the jinxes that might pop up anywhere in the house. When Mrs Black's portrait starts screaming she feels she is about to cry from sheer exhaustion. She collects herself. She hasn't cried since Professor Dumbledore's funeral, and is not about to start now.

_"__Homenum revelio,"_ she casts and relaxes when absolutely nothing happens.

They make themselves at home in the cold, dusty house. Hermione senses Harry is withholding something from them but doesn't have the energy to care. Ron and she have fought him hard enough to go with him in his hunt for horcruxes. She has researched the topic during the summer and come up with very little. There might be something in the most restricted part of the library at Hogwarts, but she hasn't been able to go there. She has considered asking Professor McGonagall, but this is, in so many ways, Harry's hunt. His quest. There may not be more information to be gained than what Professor Dumbledore already told Harry last year.

They camp in a drawing room on the first floor. In the thin, dusky dark of the August night, Hermione watches Ron who lies on the floor beside the sofa she rests on. Harry lies closer to the door. Hesitantly she reaches down and touches Ron's shoulder.

"Hmm?" he mumbles.

"I… I'm just… lonely."

He takes her hand and pulls it to his face. She doesn't exactly know if he kisses her hand, but she feels his stubble bristle against her skin. His hand is large and warm and she feels a tiny bit better.

They stay at 12 Grimmauld Place for more than a week. On the second day Harry calls Ron and her to Sirius's room where he has found a part of a letter from Lily to Sirius. Hermione scans the room she has never been in before. It's extremely messy, as if someone has searched it. Someone probably has. There is a photo of Sirius, Remus, James and Peter on the wall. A Sirius so much more carefree and happy than she has ever seen him.

They find Kreacher and listen to his tale about someone who might be Mundungus Fletcher coming to steal what might be the switched locket that, in turn, just might be the horcrux Voldemort once hid in the cave by the sea. Then they wait for Kreacher to return with Mundungus. The house doesn't appear to be watched. Neither by Death Eaters nor members of the Order.

_The calm before the storm? Where did that come from? Does the Order even exist, in any form, any more?_

The third night Kreacher still hasn't returned. They have eaten a meagre supper of bread, cheese and tea, and Harry and Ron fall asleep early. Hermione can't sleep. She is hungry, restless and, quite frankly, bored. She is more than prepared to follow Harry to places just as dreadful as that cave by the sea. She has heard both Harry's and Kreacher's accounts of the place and the picture she paints in her head chills her blood. She will go anywhere with Harry to fight his war. She has come to realize it's not her war as she used to think. Nothing is really hers, because part of her feels already dead. The quiet, dark rooms of the Black family house, or, more accurately, Harry's house do nothing to make her feel more alive.

_Oh, let that storm begin, I can't stand this… nothingness. Give me something to solve, research, curse…_

She drinks a glass of milk in the kitchen, extinguishes the old gaslights and goes in search of something, anything, that isn't broken or adorned with the Black family crest. Something that might come in handy in their quest. She stops in front of the door leading to the library.

_Here, if anywhere in England, there might be more information about Horcruxes. How they are made, preserved, hidden. Destroyed?_

Very slowly she turns the door handle. It's pitch dark inside.

"Lumos."

She can make out the outlines of the furniture, the fireplace, the bookcases.

"I_ncendio_," she whispers and small flames rise in the fireplace. A warm glow settles over the things closest to the fire. On the thick Axminster carpet a couple stands, kissing. The man is tall, dark and stands bent over the woman he holds in his arms. The woman's dark blonde hair flows down her back and the man buries his hands in the curls. The somewhat frizzy curls.

Hermione can't breathe, doesn't want to break the illusion, the trick of… what?

_Is he, is Sirius, a ghost? And she, me? Am I dead enough to be a ghost?_

The man rests his forehead against the young woman's and whispers words Hermione can't hear from the doorframe, but that she knows by heart anyway.

_'…__give me, and yourself , a little more time… …sweet dreams, darling…'_

He turns her around and pushes her softly towards the door. Hermione stands frozen but the fragment of her imagination or of her memory or whatever it is, dissolves when it leaves the slightly illuminated spot in the room. The tall man leans against the desk and Hermione can see how he grips it hard. A minute later he lets go of the table-top and stands with his back to her, his face to the fire.

"I used to pray that time would make it right, to give her back, to forgive me for what I did to her. I wish my prayers had remained unheard."

He flops down on the sofa, out of sight for Hermione. She hears nothing more. No breaths, no mumbled or whispered words she doesn't understand. Hesitantly she tiptoes closer, more drawn than terrified, and grips the armrest of the sofa. The sofa is empty. She curls up in the corner where she once slept. It's cold and smells of dust, like everything else. She has no idea why she just saw what she did, or what Sirius meant with his words about 'time' and 'prayers.' She hasn't cried for Sirius for months, trying, forcing herself to be as numb as possible in matters of the heart. Ron has softened towards her, and he is the only one she can even imagine ever getting close to, involved with, even if it would be wrong. It would be to keep loneliness at bay. In a novel she has read the line 'the incurable loneliness of the soul' and the words scare her. Is it really possible to feel this lonely? She cries into a cushion, and pulls a blanket around her. But despite being exhausted now, she still can't sleep.

_Not here. Not in this room. I need to go back to the drawing room._

But for some reason she continues up the stairs to the room Harry called her and Ron to the first morning in the house. Sirius's room. Hermione realises this is the first time she can watch and touch the remains of what was once Sirius's life, without keeping her guard up.

The room really has been searched. Papers, clothes, books and broken trinkets litter the floor. She lights a small paraffin lamp on the desk and looks down at the mess of papers. Harry might have gone through them in search for the missing part of his mother's letter to Sirius, but he certainly hadn't organized the letters, newspaper clippings, notes and photographs. Slowly Hermione picks up a piece of paper with handwritten scribbles. The upper left corner is adorned with Twilfitt and Tatting's Men's Wear in Diagon Alley. Recognizing the handwriting is almost painful.

_Pick up old bike jacket._

It's dated 1 October, 1981. Less than a month before Lily and James were killed and Sirius arrested.

_Did you have time to use it? Where is it now?_

Not knowing why, just following a haphazard clue to anything to do with Sirius, Hermione opens the wardrobe. She recognizes the clothes hanging there. Elegant velvet waistcoats, shirts in dark hues of grey, maroon, brown. She pulls the sleeve of a shirt to her face and it releases a hint of warm wood, grass and library. Hungrily she buries her face in the fabric, trying to turn back time. Her other hand searches for the thin gold chain inside the collar of her blouse.

_"__This Time turner is set on you, Ms Granger. Do you understand? Whatever or whoever you choose to bring with you must follow your time line."_

_"__Yes, Professor McGonagall."_

_"__And I don't need to tell you again that it is very unusual to trust someone as young as you with such a powerful device. It's for your double curriculum only, Ms Granger."_

_"__Yes, Professor."_

_"__And at the end of the academic year you will return it to me."_

_"__Yes, Professor."_

_Even if I did use it… Sirius is dead. He is dead in my time line. It's no use. It's impossible._

She lets her hand fall and takes a step back. On the floor of the wardrobe there is a row of boxes. Large boxes. Hermione kneels and opens one at random and comes across a copy of The Daily Prophet. Under it there are more old newspapers and clippings. Hermione grabs the box and places it on the desk. More papers. Daily Prophet clippings from 1980, 1981. Seemingly trivial reports of accidents. Some very short, almost disinterested reports of disappearances. Marlene McKinnon. The name makes her gasp and she searches the box for more information.

_Was this the end of your happiness then, Sirius? But why are these papers even here? Where did you live after Hogwarts? I've always thought, I don't know why, that you lived close to James and Lily. But why would Lily write you a letter if you too lived in Godric's Hollow? Did you really come back here to Grimmauld Place? After you ran away when you were 16? But if so, where are your other things? Why are there personal papers here from the year before Azkaban if you ran away four years earlier? Did you come back here to live after Hogwarts? With your mother? Can't see that happening. Didn't you inherit someone, an uncle?_

Suddenly she is bone-tired. She puts the box back in the wardrobe, and is just about to close the door when something soft falls from one of the brown velvet jacket Sirius used to wear around the house when he had guests. It's the same jacket he wore when he nonchalantly gave her the untidily wrapped book of sonnets. He smiled a wry smile she couldn't decipher. The object that falls from the breast pocket is a silk scarf, maybe a large handkerchief. It's dark grey and its pattern is a discreet print of small, black paws.

_Padfoot. It must be a gift from someone who knew your Animagus form._

She puts it in her pocket. The fine silk folds into almost nothing. It doesn't feel like stealing.

Ten months later, war-weary, bruised, exhausted, malnourished and hurt in every way possible, Hermione wipes a trickle of blood from her right eyebrow with a threadbare piece of dark silk. She aches all over when Harry, Ron and she leave the office that was once Professor Dumbledore's. Harry has just used the Elder Wand to mend his own holly and phoenix feather wand, and he has told Professor Dumbledore's portrait that he intends to put the Elder Wand back in Dumbledore's grave.

Hermione's mind wanders for a second to what the inside of Dumbledore's grave will look like now, its stone cracked by Voldemort and left open to the merciless rains, storms and snowfalls of the North. Will scavenging birds of prey have… Wolves…? Werewolves…? She stops her train of thought before the pictures her mind conjures up makes her sick.

She walks between Harry and Ron. Harry has his arm around her waist, Ron holds her hand. He intertwines his fingers with hers in a way he has never done before. A couple of hours ago Ron and she kissed each other in the Chamber of Secrets, deep below Hogwarts Castle. The rush of adrenaline that hit her when she stabbed one of the last Horcruxes with a Basilisk fang, and that made her answer Ron's kisses with more passion than she has felt in a year, is quickly fading, and she is falling back into her most common state of mind numbing exhaustion.

_Whatever made me kiss Ron? It's not as if I love him. Not like that. He burnt his bridges and any feelings I might have had for him when he left in November. Does he love me? In another way than this… this… this bond between Harry, him and me? Why is he holding my hand like that? I used to want him to keep loneliness at bay, but we're all lonely after this. We've lost far too much to ever feel whole again. I need to sleep… I wonder if Gryffindor Tower is unharmed? The couch in the common room…_

Harry stops and wraps her into his arms.

"What?" she whispers into his shoulder.

"You're crying," he whispers back and strokes her hair. Ron rubs her back softly and she gives into sobs of a grief so large she cannot even begin to untangle the mess of pain and longing and oppressed feelings. She feels so physically weak that the floor seems just as inviting as the softest of beds.

"He's alive! He isn't dead. There must be something with his condition of not being fully human! Harry…"

Hermione recognises the voice of Dean Thomas.

_Who isn't dead? Don't tell me it's him… If that bloody lizard with a survivability of a cockroach somehow has managed to… I'll jump from a tower. If this isn't over now, I'll jump from the highest tower still standing on the castle._

She feels Harry turning to look at Dean, without letting go of her. With a voice as dark as her own thoughts Harry asks hoarsely.

"Who, Dean?"

"Professor Lupin. Remus. It might be the Lycanthropy in him. He was declared dead with… with all the others," Dean says the last in a slightly quieter tone, "but a few minutes ago he walked out of the Great Hall on his own two feet."

"Thank, Merlin," Ron whispers behind her back. "At least someone lived."

"He is the only one," Dean answers their unspoken questions. Hermione's heart aches for Ron who has lost his brother Fred. Maybe Ron and she would make a good couple now. He might actually need her…

_Worst possible reason to build a relationship on… Get a grip!_

"I'm glad," Harry says. "Where is he?"

"He went to examine damages on the castle. At least that's what he said. He said he'll find you later."

"Thank you, Dean. We'll be down soon. We'll just…" Harry doesn't finish the sentence, but Hermione hears Dean's fading footsteps and understands he has gotten the hint of Harry dismissing him.

Slowly Harry lets his hands sink and takes a step back. His eyes wander between her and Ron who stands behind her.

"I want to go down. I want to find Ginny. And… and see who I won't find," he says with a shaky voice. "I can't stand not knowing. Will you come?"

"Yeah, mate. I also… I think Mum needs me. Are you coming, Hermione?"

She turns to catch Ron's eye and nods. Together they begin to walk towards the stairs leading down to the entrance hall of the castle. When they've descended the first flight of stairs, Hermione stops.

"You go ahead. I'll be down soon. I just need a minute alone. I'll just go and see if there is anything left of the library, then I'll be down."

"Are you sure?" Ron asks.

She nods and is unprepared for the soft kiss he plants on her lips. When he withdraws she sees Harry smiling softly, not surprised at all. Once again her saviour-of-the-world friend pulls her to him. Harry kisses her too, on her cheek, buries his face in her hair and whispers in her ear.

"I love you, too."

A second later Harry and Ron are on their way down, and she watches them with an aching throat and burning eyes.

The library entrance is destroyed and the first sections of bookcases are burnt, cursed or blown to rubble. Hermione enters carefully. In some places there are puddles of sooty water, as if someone has extinguished smouldering remains of fire, just minutes ago.

_"__Aguamenti,"_ Hermione hears a familiar voice further ahead.

"Prof… Remus? Is that you?"

And there he is. Coming towards her from a dark corner of the library. Bruised, dirty, limping and hardly recognisable, he says her name in a voice on the brink of tears. Earlier tears have washed the skin under his eyes clean of grime, but Hermione can see that his grieving is nowhere near finished.

He smells of death. Of dirt and blood and something rotten, but so does she, she supposes. Beneath the stench of war there is a trace of how the world used to be, just three years ago. Three years ago, during the final days of her fourth year, Victor Krum was sending her romantic letters and she turned him down as softly as she could. Three years ago she only had a vague notion of what was to come. In many ways she was still a child, and Remus was her friend. A man who used to be her professor who had seen something in her and answered her letters seriously and full of friendship.

"I thought you were dead," she blurts.

"So did I, for a while. But then something pulled me back. Tonks is… she is…"

"I know," Hermione whispers. "I'm sorry. Shh…" She embraces the much larger man and cries with him.

"When I… When I had seen… said goodbye to her, I thought of you. I was afraid you had… had died too."

"No," she answers darkly.

Suddenly Remus takes a step back and looks her over.

"What is it?" she asks, uneasy under his scrutinizing eyes.

"You just… You remind me of… You look exactly like when…"

"When what? I can never have looked like this before." A dry little laugh forces its way up her throat and the aching knot of tears there disappears. She reaches into her pocket, pulls up the paw-patterned piece of silk and dries her eyes. Remus softly takes her hand and pulls her closer to a window.

"I've seen this before," he mutters.

Embarrassed she tries to pull her hand out of his grasp, but there is no accusation in his voice.

"I took it at Grimmauld Place. From Sirius's room. I stole it."

Remus looks at her and, unbelievably, he smiles.

"Not really, love."

She doesn't understand and is too tired to play riddles. Remus touches her hair and says, almost as if she's not there:

"I remember wondering if this was clotted blood. It smelled like it."

"What are you talking about, Remus?" Hermione is beginning to worry about his mental state, this talk in the past tense.

He looks down at her and, unexpectedly, he smiles.

"I think you are about to go on a long journey, Hermione."

Hermione is so tired the mere words suggesting any efforts whatsoever blur her vision.

_Where is there to go now? Home? Where is that?_

Remus turns her in the direction of the door and places his hand on her back.

"Come on. You'll see. If I'm not mistaken we'll soon run into Professor McGonagall and I think she will tell you."

"Remus, I can't, I'm too… I just want to sleep. I've been on the run for almost a year. I'm not up to anything…"

"Hush. Let's listen to Minerva first. And here, drink this." He hands her a small vial and she raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"A bit of pick-me-up, a bit of liquid luck. Just swallow it."

The potion affects her almost instantaneously. She is still bone-tired, but her mind is clear and alert. They leave the ruins of the library and, as if Remus had gifts of divination poor Sibyll Trelawney could only dream of, a tall and slim witch is standing at the end of the corridor.

"Minerva," Remus calls softly. The witch winces, but finds her bearings immediately. She walks towards them as briskly as ever. Close up, Hermione can see that Professor McGonagall is a war-weary as everyone else she has seen since the deafening disintegration of Lord Voldemort earlier.

"Remus. Miss Granger. No, you are Hermione to me now, since you are not formally a student anymore."

Her words hurt Hermione. If she isn't a student at Hogwarts, who is she then? Surely Professor McGonagall will allow her to take he seventh Hogwarts year when the castle is rebuilt and everything is back to… back to some kind of functioning society. Never normal again.

"So, Remus, you are here for this. I never knew that. I thought I would be alone with Hermione when she went."

Suddenly Hermione has had enough. The other two are talking in riddles, and about her, not to her.

"Tell me now. Stop confusing me. Tell me and then let me go and sleep for days. I've had enough riddles for a lifetime."

Professor McGonagall faces her and smiles. It's the same perfectly unsuitable smile Remus smiled before they left the library. On a day with more casualties than anyone can count no one should smile at all.

"I'm about to send you back to Hogwarts."

"But we are at Hogwarts," Hermione almost cries.

"Hogwarts of 1978."


	7. 1998-1978

**Note from Kia: Won't be able to update on Friday, so this week's chapter is early. I know I've neglected this story, and perhaps lost most of my readers, but some feedback from you would help me keep me updating regularly. **

**Chapter 7**

**1998-1978**

Hermione stares at her former Transfiguration Professor as if she's suddenly grown two heads. She is stunned, but her potions-sharpened mind races.

_Sirius's last year. Lily and James were alive. I wasn't born. _

"But… but why? And how?"

For the first time ever Professor McGonagall looks as if she doesn't have the answer to every question in the universe. She still smiles, though.

"Hermione, I'm not really sure, but I can tell you what I know."

"At last," Remus says, leaning against the wall outside the library. "I've waited twenty years for this."

Professor McGonagall gives him a sharp look before she turns back to Hermione.

"In 1978 I was the newly appointed Transfiguration Professor here. Albus had been headmaster for at least ten years and had started to worry about the dark forces we heard had started to form some kind of organisation. We later discovered their leader was Albus's former student Tom Riddle. Maybe Albus knew already. Or suspected. Anyway, one day, May 2, a girl appeared just here outside the library. I was on my way to see Madame Pince about an overdue loan, when she, the girl, materialised out of thin air. It was you."

Hermione gasps.

"Me?"

"Well, at the time, she… you… she was a totally unknown girl. Too skinny, beaten up, exhausted. She told me the most horrifying tale about a war. A terrible war, but a war that our side had won. I didn't understand how she could know that I was on her side, this was before even the first war, mind you, there weren't any 'sides' yet, even though Albus had started to talk in his usual cryptic way about it. But this girl knew me. You knew me and when I asked you the date and year you gave me today, which was then twenty years into the future."

"But why would I…"

"And you told me that I, older I, the Minerva of 1998, had told you to go back. And you gave me this."

Professor McGonagall hands Hermione a piece of rolled up parchment.

"Open it."

With shaking fingers Hermione does so.

_To whom it may concern, if Minerva McGonagall is unavailable,_

_This girl came to me 20 years ago. She is a Time Traveller and she has an important mission. A certain boy, of whom Sibyll Trelawney will make a prophesy in 1980, will save our world in the future. Twenty years ago I didn't know the nature of this girl's mission, but I've come to realise that it is to make sure this boy is even born. She will not do this by magic but with friendship and courage. _

_I suggest you place her in Gryffindor House and let her take the final exam with the other students. She is well prepared for it. 20 years ago I introduced her as my goddaughter, who found the curriculum at the Askrigg school in Yorkshire too casual and too focused on Ancient Runes, and the students and staff never questioned it._

"Harry," Hermione concluded.

"Yes. I'm sorry, dear, this is not what I wanted for you on this day of victory, but in another time line, you came to me this day, twenty years ago, and on three occasions you were… there. If you hadn't been Harry wouldn't…" Professor McGonagall makes a weak little gesture Hermione has never seen before.

"What do I do? Or what did I do?"

She's on autopilot now.

_Harry. Always Harry. Damn Harry. I'll do anything for you._

"I can't tell you, because I don't know myself, I just know that you will be there."

Hermione almost rolls her eyes at the older woman. She feels patronized and kept in the dark. Why do they never tell her the whole truth? Dumbledore, Remus, Sibyll Trelawney, even Sirius for that matter, none of them has ever been totally straight forward with her.

"How can you know if you don't know how?"

Professor McGonagall takes a step closer to her and looks Hermione straight in the eye.

"Because Lily Evans told me. Lily said she had you to thank for her son in so many ways, and that you had saved him before he was even born. Harry was just a baby when Lily told me that it had been the third time you saved him. You were her very best friend. She'd mostly been with Remus since he was as bright as she, and then she got James, Sirius and Peter into the bargain."

The wish to roll her eyes and curse leaves Hermione in an instant. She feels goose bumps all over her skin and cold sweat break out at the back of her neck.

_When do I leave?_

"But how? How do you send me back in time?"

The look Professor McGonagall gives Hermione tells her that the unreturned Time Turner from Hermione's third year has never slipped her professor's mind. Her dry fingers caress Hermione's cheek and wander down to her neck. Hermione reaches for the gold chain around her neck and pulls it out in the light.

"But you said I only could use it in my own time line. I wasn't even born in 1978."

Professor McGonagall shrugs.

"I lied. Well, in a way. With the Time Turner you've got you can't travel outside your own time line. You know, Time Turners were an invention of an ancestor of mine, Roderick McGonagall. They are brilliant contraptions, but dangerous. When my great-great-great grandfather invented them he nearly caused havoc in Magic Britain. When people time travel years instead of hours, the risk of changing history is too large. The wings of a butterfly that cause a hurricane on the other side of the Earth and all that. Several people went back and made sure they weren't ever born. Others were careless, encountered their younger selves and killed themselves. One of them killed the other, but it was the same person. So, before Roderick McGonagall took out a patent on his invention and started to produce the Time Turners on a larger scale, he put in some magical precautions. No more than 48 hours time travel, and never without being informed about the danger of being seen. As I told you five years ago. And you only travelled hours, didn't you? May I borrow your Time Turner, Hermione?"

Hermione slips it off and gives it to her former professor. The older witch holds it in her left hand and points at it with her wand. She mutters in an unknown language and the golden, small hourglass glows for a second.

Hermione hesitates when Professor McGonagall gives the small device back to her.

"Hermione, dear. What you told me 20 years ago is what has made it possible for me to fight through two wars. You appearing out of nowhere and telling me more than you actually should have done has kept me going, fighting and believing. But we wouldn't stand here as winners today if it hadn't been for Harry. And he wouldn't even have been born if it wasn't for you."

Hermione sighs and Professor McGonagall adds:

"But from what I saw 20 years ago, you were not unhappy."

The thin gold chain is cold but warms up against her skin when Hermione returns it to where she's kept it for five years.

"I'll go. How?"

"Earlier, the number of times you turned the hourglass corresponded to the number of hours and minutes you went back, or forth. Now it's years and months. When you feel you mission is completed and you are ready to return, you need to turn the hourglass back the same number of times minus the time you spent in the past."

Hermione shivers and looks at the two others. She trusts them. She will miss them.

"I want you to give the letter to my younger self, Hermione. I just want to add something first."

Professor McGonagall scribbles something at the bottom of the parchment before she rolls it up and returns it to Hermione.

Remus clears his throat and the two women turn to him expectantly.

"There is something about you, Hermione, that isn't quite the same as when I met you 20 years ago. You weren't at Hogwarts long enough to get to know everyone, but you met a few whom you've met in your timeline too. Horace Slughorn, for instance."

_Oh, so that was why he was so weird at the Christmas party._

"And Severus. I don't know if they recognised you like I did."

"When did you recognise me, Remus?"

"Before I even talked to you," he smiles. "On the Hogwarts Express before your third year. Harry or Ron said your name and when you answered I recognised your voice." Remus snaps his fingers. "You had glasses 20 years ago. I remember I always thought they suited you. Made you look really clever and bookish when we discussed something we studied. Which you were, and are, of course," he finishes softly.

"Oh, no. Not those hideous, over sized 70s glasses," Hermione sighs.

"No, not at all. More like 1950's French intellectuals."

Professor McGonagall mutters a charm with the word "occulus" in it, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses appears in her hand.

"Like these?"

"Exactly," Remus says. "How did you know?"

"These are the only model I can conjure up. It's an exact replica of my own first pair."

Hermione tries them on and looks at her reflection in a dark windowpane. The glasses suit her. She looks intellectual, composed and confident.

"And her hair," Remus says.

"What about her hair?" Professor McGonagall asks.

"It was… eh, smaller. Not shorter, but less…"

"Frizzy," Hermione suggests.

"Maybe," he says with a half smile.

Professor McGonagall touches her hair and whispers a charm. Hermione's hair suddenly feels a notch heavier and hangs a little lower down her shoulders. She finds her reflection flattering. The glasses and her shiny hair make her look more grown up. Less like an exhausted girl and more like a young woman. She would like a shower and a change of clothes, but what she is about to do feels more important and urgent.

Remus pulls her close and kisses her cheek. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

"Perfect. Sometimes we thought we had dreamed you. Come and see me when you get there. Minerva and I will tell Harry, Ron and the others what they need to know about your going away."

Hermione daren't look Remus in the eyes, and asks in a whisper against his skin.

"How long?"

She feels him flinch and draw a deep breath before he answers.

"Long. We knew each other well. I thought you would be with us forever, but I've come to understand that you have been as important in this time line as in the one where I first met you. Without you Harry wouldn't have… in any of the time lines. But you were happy, love. So happy. I've never seen you so happy since."

Remus voice is sad.

_I've so often thought that this… these seven years since I've met Harry, the prophesy, the war, the horcrux hunt and now, today, the battle, have been Harry's cause, his war, his task. Maybe now, this is mine._

With one last look at her two former professors and the ruins of Hogwarts library, Hermione pulls out the stopper and starts to turn the inner ring that holds the golden hourglass.

_One, two, three, four…_

When she stops turning and locks the small stopper of the Time Turner, everything looks normal. The soft light of the library leaking out into the dark corridor, the tapestries slowly moving by the constant draft across the floor, students in school robes. Ties, scarves or badges in house colours. Hermione hasn't worn the Gryffindor gold and dark red since Dumbledore's memorial. She misses her thick striped scarf.

_But everything is normal. Did I do something wrong?_

She hesitates between going into the library or walking away and has just decided for the latter when a voice behind her addresses her.

"Excuse me, miss? Can I help you? You look a little lost. And you are not a student, are you?"

Professor McGonagall. The younger Professor McGonagall looks at her with curiosity, a hint of suspicion, and not a trace of recognition. Suddenly time and reality catch up with Hermione, and she realises what she has done. She has left everyone she knows. She has gone to a past she is not allowed to change. She has to prove herself once more, as she's tried to do, more or less, every day since she got her Hogwarts acceptance letter at the age of eleven. And the illusion that everything looks normal is the past, what it used to look like. No damages from the battle, no rows upon rows of dead in the Great Hall, no inconsolable George Weasley or stoic but grieving Remus Lupin. She can't speak and she can feel tears streaming down her face. Professor McGonagall looks concerned and takes Hermione by the arm. It's her left arm where the word "Mudblood" never heals, no matter how she cleans it. She can't hold back a cry of pain and the older witch releases her immediately.

"Miss? Please, try to calm down. I won't hurt you and I won't throw you out. Will you please come with me and explain who you are and what you are doing here? If you follow me to my rooms I can make you a cup if tea and… Are you seriously hurt, miss? You're bleeding. Right… here." Professor McGonagall doesn't touch her, but indicates her left temple.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's nothing," Hermione manages to say through the fog of tears and panic. "And I would very much like a cup of tea. I have a letter for you, Professor McGonagall."

The older witch's eyes widen when Hermione uses her name, but she doesn't ask anything and leads the way to her rooms.

Hermione had never known where the Gryffindor Head of House had her private rooms. It turns out to be on the first floor of Gryffindor Tower, two or three floors below the students' common room, depending on the moving stairs. Professor McGonagall ushers Hermione inside. Soon a fire is roaring in the fireplace and a tray with teacups and biscuits stands on a small table between two armchairs. Hermione stands rooted on the spot, unable to move.

"Miss? My name is Minerva McGonagall, and for some reason you already seem to know this. I don't know yours, though. Please, come and sit here by the fire and tell me your name."

Hermione shuffles towards the fire and sinks down in the empty chair.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and I come from… another time. Ten minutes ago I spoke to you in that other time, and on your advice I came here, to this time." Professor McGonagall looks more surprised than Hermione has ever seen her. "And I was to give you this." She hands over the rolled up piece of parchment and watches while the other witch reads it.

The 20 years younger Minerva McGonagall is as tall and thin as her older self. Her face is smoother and less worried, and there is an openness to it that Hermione has never seen.

_What gave you that constant frown of suspicion and hardness, Professor? Was it when you found out about poor, orphaned Tom Riddle who Dumbledore took pity on, raised, and educated?_

Professor McGonagall reads the letter out loud. The last lines surprise Hermione, they must have been what were added just before she left.

_"__Apparently this girl will be a good friend of Remus Lupin later, and since he is in his last year I would suggest you introduce her to Remus and his friends first. I know they will take good care of her."_

Professor McGonagall pours Hermione a cup of tea and gives her a friendly smile.

"Remus Lupin, indeed. But according to this you are almost twenty years younger than him in your time line."

"He was our teacher. Here at Hogwarts."

This makes Professor McGonagall smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, how can I help you? What happens in 20 years that made me send you this far back?"

_In 20 years. It hasn't happened yet. Fred is alive, and Sirius and Tonks. Dumbledore and Snape. _

A new wave of grief engulfs Hermione. She is too tired to think about what she should or shouldn't say. On the other hand she is with a woman she has trusted for as long as they've known each other, and who again and again has surprised everyone with her loyalty and sense of duty. All of it gushes out of her, in choked gasps between words. It's horrifying when the story of the second rise of Lord Voldemort and the Second Wizarding War is compressed into half an hour. The tea is cold when Hermione has finished and her hostess is stunned.

"So this is what lays ahead of us. You shouldn't really…"

"…tell you all this. I know," says Hermione. "But, to me, you have always been the most trustworthy professor at Hogwarts and…"

The other woman holds up her hand.

"No, don't tell me any more. What you've told me is more than enough. It will strengthen me and help me make many right decisions. But you are not here to change your past; you are here to repeat it, as I understand. As it was done by yourself in an earlier time line. Am I right?"

Hermione sighs.

"Yes, I think so."

"Well then. I will do what I can to help you. But before we do anything, can you tell me what is wrong with your left arm? You are obviously in pain."

She is. The bursts of adrenaline during the last weeks have dulled the pain, but now the cut Bellatrix Lestrange carved into her skin aches as badly as when it was done. Reluctantly Hermione takes off her denim jacket and her pink hoodie and pulls up the sleeve of her t-shirt. She doesn't look at either her wound or Professor McGonagall when she stretches out her arm for the other woman's inspection. She hears a gasp of horror.

"I know," she whispers. "It's awful. Can it ever heal?"

"But haven't we got any medical care in 20 years?"

"We've just been to war. The knife came from the Lestrange family. I don't know how heavily it was cursed. I've treated it with Dittany and Star Grass. Sometimes it heals a bit, but then it breaks open again."

"Let me see what I can do. I will ask Madame Pomfrey to come and look at it. She is our nurse."

"I know," Hermione says.

"How do you know? Oh, yes, of course…"

A few minutes later a very young Madame Pomfrey sits opposite Hermione in front of the fire. She holds Hermione's arm softly as she inspects the cut. Professor McGonagall tells the medi-witch briefly that Hermione is a time-traveller and will be introduced as Professor McGonagall's goddaughter and as a transfer from Askrigg. The young medi-witch flinches when she learns Hermione is a time-traveller, but takes Professor McGonagall's word for it. Hermione's head spins from the pain in the exposed cut. She has actively not thought about the pain for two months, refused to feel it, topped it with other pains, physical as well as emotional. She has found that a double dose of thinking about Sirius and what could have happened between them in the future if he'd been alive dulls the pain quite effectively by a completely different kind of pain.

"Lestrange, you say? Rodolphus or Rabastan?"

Hermione looks blankly at the medi-witch.

_Of course. Bellatrix hasn't married him yet. Is this information safe to share?_

"His wife. Rodolphus's wife."

Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"So he will find someone who… well, someone who tolerates… sorry, loves him for what he is."

"Oh, yes," Hermione sighs. "A perfect match."

Professor McGonagall frowns.

"He used to torture the house elves and animals he could trap at the border of the forbidden forest. Once we actually considered expelling him when there was a really nasty incident with two first year students, but neither would witness properly. Perhaps they couldn't. Hagrid, our gamekeeper, had seen it, but his witness was deemed unreliable."

Hermione shrugs. She can't tell them more about the future.

"I'll treat this wound with more Dittany, a very concentrated form, and a counter-curse I believe is needed," Madame Pomfrey says, when it's clear that Hermione won't enlighten them with any more information about Rodolphus Lestrange's future wife. "The counter-curse is aimed at most curses cast on objects to give them magical abilities. I suspect the knife used here is imbued with an ever-bleeding curse, so pure potion and salve treatment will never heal it properly. It will hurt."

Hermione nods, not really fearing any physical pain.

_It just can't be worse than what I've already been through._

And the pain of the treatment isn't worse than anything before, even though it's bordering. It's more painful than when Bellatrix cut her, but Hermione feels safer in the hands of Hogwarts staff and grits her teeth through the pain. Madame Pomfrey strokes her thumb over Hermione's skin, and the cut is closed. It still burns, but there is no visible blood. Hermione hasn't looked at her arm while she was treated, but looks closely at the new scar tissue now.

Mudblood. Her own scar tissue has formed the word 'mudblood.' She remembers when she first came across the xenophobic word, it must have been in her first year at Hogwarts, when she read a really old edition of _Hogwarts – A History_. When Draco Malfoy called her a mudblood in her second year she was almost destroyed. She had only been in the Magical world for little more than a year, and she had hoped that her new world would be less bigoted than the Muggle world.

"I'm sorry," Madame Pomfrey whispers. "I can't change that. It's the original form of the cut, isn't it?"

Hermione nods.

"A man like that can't be allowed to… marry or spread his dreadful opinions or genes, or even to breathe," the medi-witch snaps. She turns to Professor McGonagall. "Isn't there any way we could, Albus could… Now that we know, I mean."

"No," Hermione says firmly before the older woman has a chance to answer. "No, I am not allowed to change the past. Professor, you know that. Your great-great-whatever ancestor came to understand that. You were very clear on this before I left."

Professor McGonagall nods.

"No, we can't use information about the future to change the past, no matter how much we want to. The risks are too high. The circumstances have to be extreme to be worth the risk. If you were to take a person who was about to die in a war and take him or her with you to the future, everybody's memories of that person dying in the war would make it almost impossible for that person to convince his or her friends and family that he or she is real, and not an impostor. And if he or she then came clean and admitted illegal, or at least law-bending or inappropriate use of time travel, everyone would want their deceased loved ones back. Immediately. And there would be true chaos. No, we can't. We have one chance at present, and we must do our best with that." She looks at Hermione with so much empathy Hermione has to look away. "But sometimes, someone gets a second chance at doing their very best with the present. Thank you, Poppy. And remember, no gossiping about Miss Granger here. I know I can trust you." The last sentence has a hint of a question in its intonation.

"Of course, Minerva. You know that. I've taken an oath to Albus and his Order. I would never…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Poppy. I'm just suspicious of… I don't know, everyone except myself. Of course I trust you."

Madame Pomfrey smiles to both of them.

"I need to go back to the Medical Wing. I have open clinic in ten minutes. Welcome Miss Granger. You can always come to me if you need my help with what you are about to accomplish here."

When the medi-witch closes the door, Hermione turns to Professor McGonagall.

"You can trust her. She performed miracles in the Second War. She stayed at Hogwarts when no one…"

"No, don't. Thank you for strengthening my trust in her, but please don't tell me any more. We have an agenda to follow now, don't we?"

Hermione looks bewildered.

"I mean your agenda, Miss Granger. Your mission. Everything is already decided in that letter. I wouldn't dream of contradicting myself. I will place you in Gryffindor House, as a transfer from Askrigg, and you will take the final exams with the other 7th years. The final exams begin in three weeks, on May 22. You will be here as my goddaughter. Let's say your parents live in the south of England."

Hermione just nods, her mind buzzing with the new information.

"But first I should do what I will suggest in 20 years."

"What?"

"Introduce you to Remus Lupin and his friends."

**Please drop me a line and tell me what you think about my story. I'd be forever grateful. Love from Kia.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for your lovely reviews. I'm ever so grateful for and inspired by them. In the chapter below, you'll be thrilled to meet an old friend. Someone we thought we'd lost to that bloody Veil in the Department of Mysteries.**

**Love from Kia**

**Chapter 8**

**May 1978, Hogwarts**

**Hermione**

When they leave Professor McGonagall's rooms, mouth-watering smells from the Great Hall tell Hermione that it's time for dinner. She can't remember when she last had a full, cooked meal. Harry, Ron and she had survived on stale bread, cheese, fruit and water for months. They reach the large stairs leading to the Entrance Hall and Professor McGonagall stops with a short "Aha."

For a second Hermione sees Harry, Ron, Ginny, and perhaps Neville standing at the bottom of the stairs with their backs turned. Then she remembers that when Harry and Ron descended those stairs earlier, the Entrance Hall was in ruins and she left them to check on the library.

_In that other time. In the past. In the future._

"Mr Lupin," her professor calls in her dry, clear voice, and the four people she mistook for her friends turn around. The fairest of them is Remus, a scarless Remus the same age as Hermione. Then Harry, no, James looks up at her. Next to him is Lily, a pretty redhead with Harry's green eyes, but clear and calm instead of bloodshot and sad. The last of the quartet to turn is Sirius. When she sees him, his face, his hair, his half-smile, her heart flutters and she feels herself smile. It must be the first time in weeks.

_He is… alive. And here._

Sirius smiles back at her, a sincere smile filled with curiosity and a hint of appreciation. Hermione is suddenly aware of that she has worn the same clothes for days, hasn't seen a comb in weeks and probably smells less of roses than ever. She can't stop smiling though.

"Come, my dear," her alleged godmother says and together they walk down the stairs.

"Mr Lupin, Mr Potter, Mr Black, Miss Evans, this is my goddaughter Hermione Granger. She has just transferred from Askrigg School for Ancient Magic and will instead take her final exams with you. I know that the Head Girl's rooms are large enough for another student Miss Evans, and I am thus asking you to share for the last month of the term."

Lily looks surprised but not unfriendly. Instead she smiles at Hermione.

"From Askrigg? How exciting. Their research into Ancient Runes is world leading. I'll be happy to share with you."

Out of the corner of her eye Hermione sees James look a little bit disappointed and, suppressing a giggle she understands why. A girlfriend with rooms of her own is most likely a benefit. Lily's smiling green eyes remind Hermione of Harry so strongly it hurts.

_When was the last time I saw Harry smile like that? It must have been at his birthday last summer. I can't actually remember him smiling with happiness since then. At Christmas, when we danced in the tent, none of us were truly happy, but afraid and listening for trespassers, snatchers, Death Eaters._

"Thank you," she says. "I'll try to not be in your way."

"Nonsense," Lily laughs. "If you are brave and confident enough to transfer to Hogwarts just before the final exams it can only mean I have found a worthy study partner."

Remus clears his throat and looks reproachfully at Lily.

"What about me, Evans?"

"Yes, Remus. You are indeed a worthy study partner, when you are around and not off with these good-for-very-little rascals. I say this very lovingly, you know," she says to James and Sirius. James chuckles, but Sirius is quiet. When Hermione chances a glance in his direction he looks intensely at her. It reminds her of something, but she can't put her finger on it.

It is decided that the four students Hermione has been introduced to will be responsible for showing her different parts of Hogwarts, since she apparently is new to the place. Lily will show her Gryffindor Tower tonight and James will take her around the classrooms tomorrow, after breakfast. After classes tomorrow Remus will walk Hermione around the grounds and to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Tomorrow night, James and Sirius have offered to show her the battlements of the castle. Hermione plays her role as a new student without any slip-ups, and accepts all offers of making her acquainted with her new school.

She follows them to the Great Hall for dinner and is introduced to Peter Pettigrew. She suppresses a shudder when he eagerly shakes her hand and looks at her with hungry eyes.

_I could tell. I could grip his left forearm to see if his dark mark hurts. Or rip up his sleeve to show them. Is it there already? Perhaps not. It's more than three years 'til the 31 October 1981. Has he already decided? Or will I watch him become… become what? Whatever made him…? Fear? He has nothing to fear now. He's with a popular group of students. He's still just eager to please them. And I can't give him away. I'm not allowed. I'm here to make sure that I, later on, will meet a boy on the Hogwarts Express, repair his glasses and eventually become his friend. Harry's friend. Always Harry. Oh, Harry! What are you doing now? Have you noticed I'm gone? Does it worry you? What has Remus told you? But you have Ginny, it's written in the stars that you'll have Ginny. I'm sorry. I miss you. _

And in an instant Hermione realises that her own will and her knowledge about the future have very little to do with what she must accomplish. She is here to be Lily's friend. Lily who is about to graduate from Hogwarts in only two months.

_What then? I don't know anything about your and James's life while… engaged? Married? Expecting a baby? What did you do, what will you do to support yourselves? Didn't James and Sirius join the Auror program at the Ministry? I think so, but I have no idea what you did, Lily. I know you were… you are bright, one of the best in your year, but to what use did you put your brightness? I wonder what I'll do. And for how long I'll be needed here. I'd like to do academic research. If I pass the final exams. Of course I'll pass the final exams! This is 1978, long before Griselda Marchbanks reformed the magical education of Britain and made the exams more random and more difficult to predict. The exams will be on Polyjuice Potion, transfiguration of animals to everyday kitchen utensils, basic apparition, seeing something (preferably a disaster) in tea leaves, and drawing someone's horoscope from the constellations of the stars. I'll pass._

"Eh, hello? Can you please pass the pumpkin juice?"

Hermione is torn from her musings by a familiar voice.

"Yes, of course, Remus. Here."

"Thanks." He looks at her in the same scrutinising way as a few hours before, when his older self said something about her looking exactly like… Like today, she realises. She gives him a smile. She really does want to be his friend, like she is now. Then. Later. In her own time line.

"You look a bit… battered," James says from her left. "How did you travel from Yorkshire? On a Thestral?"

Hermione smiles.

"Yes, something like that."

Sirius looks at her from across the table. He wears the same intense, searching look as before. As if he knows her. As if he can't place her, even though he's trying really hard. Hermione gives him a curious smile, and he snaps out of his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just feel as if I've seen you somewhere before."

The familiar timbre of his voice makes Hermione gasp.

"Smooth, Pads," James laughs.

"As if," Remus says. "You only wish."

Hermione feels a blush creeping up her neck and fakes a cough to hide it.

"I don't think so, Sirius. I would have remembered," she says, surprised by her own flirtatiousness. She hasn't planned it; the words just leave her lips before she can stop them.

The cooked dinner of lamb stew and roasted potatoes makes Hermione feel slightly sick. Her stomach isn't used to food like that, isn't used to food at all. For a few seconds she is afraid she'll have to make a sprint to the lavatories to be sick, but it passes, and she sips her pumpkin juice slowly.

"Well then," Lily says when she puts down her napkin. "Are you ready to go up to Gryffindor Tower and see where we'll sleep?"

Hermione puts down her glass and smiles to the girl who is as much Harry as she can find in this new… old world.

"Yes. Certainly."

Sirius jumps to his feet.

"Where is your trunk? I can… I mean, James and I could…"

Hermione pats her small, embroidered bag.

"It's all here. Shrunken. Trunks are rather in the way when you travel by air."

"Oh. Well, in that case…" Sirius sits down again and makes a point of not looking at her, but asking Peter something.

The Head Girl's rooms are spacious. A large bedroom with, to Lily's surprise, a recently added four-poster bed, plus a bathroom and a small hall with several wardrobes.

"And you won't mind?" Hermione asks.

"Sharing? No, not at all. James might, though."

"Oh. So you and he, you are…"

"Together? Yes. Lord, yes. I used to hate the mere sight of him, but… well, I changed my mind. He pestered me to go out with him since third year, and last year, on a whim, I did. He's… He's just the one. The one for me, anyway."

"I'm happy for you. He seems nice."

This is a lie. The sight of James unsettles Hermione. At a distance, or at a glance he looks just like Harry, but when she looks him in the eyes, there is nothing of Harry there, but a stranger. A brown-eyed stranger in the face of her best friend. It's unnerving, and Hermione much prefers to meet Harry's gaze when she looks at Lily.

"Hermione?"

"Yes."

"You do look a bit… well, as if you've been to war. How did you actually travel from Askrigg?"

Hermione doesn't know what to say.

_How do I look? How do I smell? I don't remember when I had a shower. I haven't looked in a mirror apart from that windowpane when Professor McGonagall gave me glasses._

"Oh, I don't know if I'm allowed to say. They have some special creatures in England. A bit like your thestrals here in Scotland, but a bit more… dragonlike. But I'm rather tired. It wasn't an easy… flight. Would it be OK if I just went to bed after I've had a bath?"

"Well, of course. But please let me just walk you around the tower first. These are my rooms, since I, for reasons unknown, have been selected Head Girl. As if I haven't enough to do with just my own studies. Down the corridor there are the other girls' rooms. And, please, come down to the common room, just for a minute. I didn't show it to you properly."

Hermione follows Lily down the stairs and is, once more, in the Gryffindor common room. Very little is changed from her time. Or very little will change to her time, 13 years later. When she stands in front of the fireplace with Lily, warming their backs to the roaring fire, she hears the sound of the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging to its side and letting someone in.

"But I'm not kidding. I have seen her before," someone says. Sirius.

"Pads, give it a rest," Remus murmurs. "You would have told me. And I don't think she's someone you've met when you were still going home to your mother's during the holidays. And since then, I've been with you, and I haven't seen her before."

"And neither have I," James chimes in. "But Pads, it's really not polite to drool like that. Your fangs are showing. And your tongue."

"But I'm telling you…"

"I think she's pretty," Peter chirps. "I don't blame Sirius for…"

The four boys, the Marauders as Hermione will later know them, come into view and abruptly quiet down.

"Oh, there you are," Lily saves the day with. "Anything yummy for dessert? Hermione and I were just about to call it a day. Perhaps compare some notes on Ancient Runes before we turn in, right?"

She ushers Hermione up the stairs and into their rooms.

"You made an impression, that's for sure," she giggles with her back to the closed door.

Hermione stares at Lily with a blank face.

"Sirius is usually the charmer and the talker, I've never seen him so… inarticulate."

Hermione blushes. Again.

"Oh," is all she finds the strength to say.

"Ah, don't worry. He's a really nice bloke. Brought up in a horrendous home, though. All pureblood mania. His parents, especially his mother… but, well, it's not my story to tell. He seems rather… smitten, to use an old-fashioned word. How is he now going to be able to focus on his studies for the final exams? He'll blame you."

Lily laughs and Hermione tries to do the same.

Later, after a long bath and in clean pyjamas, Hermione lays awake in the four-poster bed. It feels familiar, just like her old bed in the rooms she used to sleep in. She is tired. Bone-tired and the enchanted stars in the canopy above her shift in and out of focus.

_"__One day, love, when you are a little older, I will turn around and see you in a completely different light." _

_Did it just happen? Just now, this evening? They were talking about me, weren't they? Or did I somehow misunderstand?_

The only thing that makes it even a touch probable that Sirius really spoke about her to his friends and that Lily is right when she says Hermione has made an impression, is what Hermione knows about the older Sirius.

_He actually kissed me and said those words. And he gave me that book of sonnets. Those lovely, lovely poems. And what was it Remus said? At Sirius's memorial service. Brightest witch of his age too._

Now, with hindsight and Remus admitting that he knew her from before, the mentioning of "his age too" makes sense. Hermione puts her hands to her stomach, afraid she is starting to feel sick again. She sighs relieved.

_Butterflies._

**Sirius**

In another part of Gryffindor Tower, Sirius lies awake. The stars in the canopy above his bed are annoyingly clear. He is as sleepless as he used to be as a little boy when Walburga Black was in particularly foul mood and Regulus and he never knew what to expect.

_Something about that new girl. Where have I seen her before? I used to make fun of James when he talked about Lily, ever since we were 13. Is this what it feels like? I felt as if she could see straight through me. Or right into me. She can't be someone I met through mother, please Merlin, don't let her be one of those dreadful pureblood bitches._

James snores from the bed beside him, and on the other side Remus coughs. Sirius wants to smother them with pillows. He wishes he were alone. Or at least not with his chums. With her. With that new, intriguing, shy and pretty girl who walked down the stairs and into his life a few hours ago. When he saw her something inside him clicked, something that made him think of keys. A second later the image of keys was gone from his mind, and he just watched her gracefully follow Professor McGonagall down the stairs. He couldn't think of anything to say, not even 'hello' or 'welcome.' He just tried, in vain, to remember where he had seen this girl before. He still can't place her. Strangely it feels as if he's known her all his life.

Please, review.


	9. Chapter 9

**And here it is, an all new Friday night chapter (at least in this part of the world), begging to be read and reviewed.**

**Hermione**

Hermione stands in front of the mirror on her first morning at Hogwarts in May 1978. She hasn't seen herself in a full-length mirror in almost a year. She is appalled by what she sees now. Her ribs are showing almost all along her ribcage, and on her left side a large bruise shadows several of them. A particularly hard fall during the battle two days ago…

_Two days ago…?_

…when a pillar less than a yard from her exploded by a curse that was most likely aimed at her. Another bruise on her right hip and the larger part of her thigh is so painful she has to concentrate to walk without limping. A small cut in right eyebrow will probably leave a scar forever. She looks malnourished, there is no roundness in her face, which makes her look bitter and cold. The dark skin under her eyes doesn't help. She tries to smile at her own image, but her dry, cracked lips sting, and she closes her mouth. The skin of her face is dry, pale and dull. Slowly she holds out her left arm and inspects the reversed invective on the inside of her upper arm. Mudblood. It's still red and tender, but the absence of blood makes her heart feel a bit lighter. Taking a step back and turning 90 degrees, she sighs. She's never been curvy, but her almost flat chest and skinny legs are really discouraging. In addition to that, her appetite is close to non-existent due to the constant stress she's been living under for so many months. She can feel hunger, but feels full and nauseous after three bites. A knock on the door makes her flinch and quickly wrap a towel around her.

"Hermione? Are you OK? Would you like some breakfast before James shows you the classrooms?"

_No._

"I'll be right out, Lily. Just a minute."

She pulls on underwear, black tights and a thin top with sleeves before her school skirt, white shirt, tie and cardigan. Yesterday when Lily searched her wardrobe for outgrown clothes, Hermione noticed the school uniform hasn't changed much in 20 years. She puts on her glasses and draws her fingers through her hair, amazed that she can without coming across an entangled knot of hair. Her hair is definitely her best feature now, and her glasses hide the worst of the dark rings under her eyes.

"My, you're skinny," she is greeted when she unlocks the door and comes out. "I didn't realise last night when you were in casual clothes. Sorry for asking, but are you… I mean, oh, I shouldn't have asked…"

"No, it's fine, Lily," Hermione answers, as embarrassed as Lily for her emaciated body. She looks sick. She looks like she's dying. If the war hadn't come to an end when it did, it might very well have killed her by sheer starvation. "I've been… It's been some… Well, someone close to me, almost family, has been through a really rough time, and I've been stressed out and not being able to… to take care of myself."

_It's not a lie. Harry is as much family as anyone._

"Is she better now? Or is it him?" Lily asks about the son she still has no idea she will give birth to.

"It's him. And, yes, he is much better. Everything is fine with him now."

"Do you miss him?" Lily's green eyes are as concerned as Harry's were last Christmas when he unlocked the soul-eating, depressing horcrux from her neck and danced with her to the crackling radio. Hermione feels her own eyes grow hot with tears and she tries to blink them away.

"Er, well yes, but… I just can't… Right now we need to be in different places. I'll see him later. After I've graduated."

"Oh, good." Lily hugs her briefly and then pulls her towards the door. "Let's have some breakfast. You'll have your appetite back in no time. The elves here at Hogwarts are amazing."

_Yes, I know._

Hermione notices Lily's side-glances on their way down to the Great Hall. She realises Lily has drawn the conclusion that the 'someone close to me' is somehow a romantic heart-ache, when, in fact, Hermione's heart is happier than it has been in years because of the one person she never thought she would see again. Sirius.

As if summoned by Hermione thinking about him, he looks up just when Lily and she enter the Great Hall. He smiles at them and waves, which makes the other three Marauders look up as well.

"Good morning," Remus greets them politely.

"How much beauty sleep do you actually need?" James grumbles. "You're late."

Hermione blushes, due both to her being the reason for being late and the mentioning of beauty sleep. She could sleep for as long as Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale and still not be able to compete with Lily's perfect complexion.

After nibbling on some buttered toast and swallowing some milky tea she tells James that she is ready to have a look at the classrooms before the first lessons.

She asks all the right questions and is duly impressed by James's tour of the floors where the teaching at Hogwarts apparently always has taken place.

Walking down a flight of stairs to the Potions classroom, they hear someone humming a happy tune and come across Professor Slughorn preparing his lessons. James introduces Hermione.

"Yes, yes, Minerva, I mean Professor McGonagall, told us all at dinner yesterday. Your godmother is very proud of you, Miss Granger, and the whole academic staff is curious about you. Transferring to Hogwarts so late. Well, good luck, I really mean it. Talk to Mr Lupin about what we've covered this year. He'll be able to make it all structured and clear." Professor Slughorn glances at James. "Well, Mr Potter would too, if he could be bothered to sit still long enough. Mr Potter, about that accident with the motorbike and the muggle police…"

"Please, Professor, I've said I'm sorry so many times the word has lost its meaning. Both Sirius and I have, and we've had detention and extra curricular tasks. It _was_ an accident, and it won't happen again. And it was Sirius's bike."

"Yes, Mr Potter, but you climbed on it with him. I'm not surprised Mr Black did something as reckless as that, but I had expected you to be the voice of reason. But, all right, let's leave it. As long as you guarantee that the sound of the motor of that bike will not reach my ears before graduation."

"Yes, sir. I promise."

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, James explains the motorbike accident involving him, Sirius, Sirius's motorbike and the muggle police. Hermione already knows the story but listens as if it's the first time she hears it.

"I knew it was a mad idea, it's just that Sirius… Well, he is kind of mad," James says. "In a good way. At least to his friends, but there is something… No, I should let you find out yourself."

Since the 7th years are studying a curriculum written before the much talked about reform Griselda Marchbanks implemented in the 1980's Hermione has no problem following the lessons. It feels surprisingly comforting to be back in a classroom, listening, taking notes, answering questions and discussing with the other students.

Remus takes her on a similar tour in the afternoon, but around the grounds at Hogwarts. Hermione finds Remus as kind and clever as when she met him the first time. She can sense his secret about his Lycanthropy, the way he keeps the left side of his face from her, the seriousness in his voice when he speaks about the dangers of the creatures of the night in the Forbidden Forest at the full moon and how he seems to think twice before he answers sometimes. Hermione wishes they will become friends quickly and that he will start trusting her enough to share his secret.

_Does he even know about the Wolfsbane Potion? Damocles invented it just a few years ago. It wouldn't cure him, but relieve the symptoms of his Lycanthropy. He wouldn't be compelled to hurt himself, and he'd feel less bloodthirsty._

"Look, wood anemone," Remus says. "So many it looks like snow."

They do. The white flowers grow along the side of the path and look like snow, but the spring sun and the faintest of scents contradict the wintry image. Hermione bends down to pick a few. Remus remains standing, but when she draws herself up he looks at her in a scrutinising way. His eyes dart between her face and her neck.

"What is it, Remus?"

He relaxes.

"Nothing. Sorry. Thought I saw a wasp flying into your shirt, under your collar. Must have been wrong."

Hermione pats her collarbones. The thin chain of the Time Turner itches against her skin, but she dare not take it off and leave it somewhere in the castle. Has he seen it? He can't possibly have seen more than the chain. Together they walk back to the castle for dinner. Already their conversation is mainly academic. None of them are interested in merely solving the assignments given by their teachers, but to understand the larger picture surrounding the assignments, and discussing the topic from other perspectives.

_I never had this at Hogwarts. Now I'll have it for two months._

"And down there is Hagrid's hut."

Sirius points at the funny little building at the border of the forest, and Hermione gives an appropriate response. They are standing at the battlements of the castle. James muttered an excuse for not coming with them, and Hermione hopes he will spend some time with Lily.

It's the same place Hermione, Harry, Sirius and Buckbeak ran across in another time, when Hermione's Time Turner and Harry's Patronus had saved Sirius's life. She feels the same sensation of butterflies in her stomach now as she did when she flew on Buckbeak's back with the newly rescued Sirius behind her, with his hands around her waist.

"And Hagrid is the gamekeeper, right?" she asks.

"Yes, and a good friend. He helps me out sometimes."

_Just like he always did, will do, with Harry._

"Really?" she says lightly. "In what way?"

"Well… Hagrid knows the castle and the grounds better than most. He keeps a few of my things for me. Things I can't keep in the castle."

"Like a certain motorcycle, perhaps?"

Sirius looks at her, perplexed.

"How did you know? Everyone thinks the muggle police confiscated it."

"Professor Slughorn mentioned it this morning, and made James apologise for an incident connected with that. James let it slip, later, that you managed to get it out by sending your uncle who pretended to be your father."

"Uncle Alphard, yes. That was the last thing he did for me, though. He died the following week."

Sirius's jaw tenses and he looks away. Hermione puts her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry. Was he… er, old? I mean, was it expected?"

Sirius shakes his head and clears his throat.

"No, no, he was only 52. He worked with curses, though. Researching counter-curses."

Hermione keeps her hand on his arm, while they both look out over the spring green forest. The Whomping Willow is silvery green, and its leaves give away the tree's magic abilities by not swaying in the light breeze like the other trees. Sirius turns to look at her and in the corner of her eye she sees that probing look he often wears when he looks at her and thinks she doesn't notice. In an instant she can place it. She remembers it from their first meeting in the Shrieking Shack. She was terrified, Sirius bloodthirsty. For Harry, she had thought at first, but she soon learned the true story about whose betrayal had killed James and Lily.

_Did he recognise me then? From now? But why does he look at me like that now? And why does he say he thinks he has seen me somewhere before? Both to me and the others?_

"Why have you come here this late in the term, Hermione? Just before the final exams? From what I hear the exams in Askrigg are a notch easier then ours and would give you the same kind of degree for further studies."

Hermione doesn't know what to say.

"And where are you from, originally? You're not from the north of England, I can hear that," Sirius continues.

This is easier to answer.

"South of London."

"Hm, I figured. Is your family still living there?"

It's Hermione's turn to clear her throat. It aches when she suddenly sees her parent's blank faces when she had just obliviated their memories of her.

"No. No, my parents have moved to Australia. I have no brothers or sisters."

"So, you're pretty much…"

"On my own, yes."

"Sounds nice."

If anyone else had said this to Hermione at this point of her life, feeling lonelier than ever before, she would have snapped at them. Knowing Sirius's family history though, she knows the story behind his words.

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd love to be, as you put it, on my own. My uncle Alphard was the only relative of mine I could stand. I even liked him. My parents… well… Excuse me for asking, but you are not a pure blood witch, are you?"

Again, Hermione could have taken offense, but she knows Sirius's views on the subject of blood purity.

"No, no, I'm muggle-born. Why do you ask?"

"My family is pure blood, and they are… I don't know, so bloody pretentious, snobbish, self-important, false… any negative word to describe them would fit. They believe in blood purity, arranged marriages, muggle-borns being less of witches and wizards. They keep to themselves and the other Sacred Twenty-Eight families of inbred supremacists. I'm the only one in my family who didn't get sorted into Slytherin. Not popular at home, I can tell you that. I don't want anything to do with them and I haven't been home to see any of them since before sixth year."

Hermione remembers when Sirius walked her back to Hogwarts that Boxing Day in her fourth year. He had mentioned his family then, and how much he loved Hogwarts for showing him another world.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

He laughs it off.

"I'm all right. I have friends who are more family to me than them. I never have to go back to the other Blacks, thank Merlin. But you, do you miss your family?"

Hermione nods.

"But I'm also grateful for this opportunity to get a degree from Hogwarts and then find my own way. Studies or work. Look, a Hippogriff!"

They watch the large animal land outside Hagrid's Hut and see him come out and feed it. Suddenly Hermione feels Sirius's fingers at her eyebrow.

"What have you done here?"

_Been hit by only one shard of an exploding window. I could have been sliced into minced meat if I'd been closer._

"Must have been a twig when I flew through the forest."

He looks at her doubtfully.

_Why does it feel as if he can see straight though me? Or right into me?_

She smiles hesitantly at him and he smiles back. The sky behind him is azure blue, and somewhere inside her burnt and ripped pieces of an imaginary jigsaw puzzle are starting to come together in larger azure blue segments. Sirius's smile warms her in the chilly evening and she shivers. She could stay up here with him the whole evening, or forever. But she needs to keep in mind that he has only just met her, he doesn't know her like she knows him, and she doesn't trust herself enough to remember that if she stayed.

"Let's go back. It's cold and I need to study. Remus promised me to summarize what you've done in Potions."

Sirius shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on Hermione's shoulders.

"Sorry, should have noticed. OK, we'll take this way in."

He leads them into the castle through stairs, tunnels and narrow corridors Hermione never knew existed. She walks after him in a cloud of his scent and warmth from his jacket. When they come to the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall the large doors open and let in a single student. It's a girl the same age as Hermione, and Sirius's smile lights up like a Christmas tree. He sprints to catch the girl in his arms and swings her around in a hug. Hermione doesn't know where to look and suppresses the jealousy that rises within her.

_Get a grip. He must have had a life before you came along, right? And even after._

Sirius and the girl come towards her and she forces herself to don a friendly smile. Sirius arm is around the girl's waist and they both look truly happy.

"Hermione, this is Marlene. Marlene, this is Hermione. She's just transferred from Askrigg and wants to take her final exams with us."

The girl's eyes widen.

"From Askrigg? Wow. Welcome to Hogwarts then. Are Sirius and the others helping you to settle in?" She has a soft Irish accent.

"Yes, very much so. I'm really glad I came. Sirius's just shown me the battlements and everything you can see from there."

"The battlements, yes, you like to spend time up there, Sirius, don't you? Brooding and being generally anti-social," Marlene says, but not unfriendly.

"Isn't it better that I stay up there than making you all suffer when I'm in a bad mood?" Sirius asks, his eyes shining when he smiles at her.

Despite her short, dark hair, Marlene is pretty in a girly way. She seems comfortable in Sirius arms. Hermione feels like the fifth wheel and takes a step towards the stairs.

"I'll be off, then. Remus and I said 7:30 and it's…"

"Oh, I'll show you the way. You can't trust the stairs, see."

"No, no. You stay, I'll find my way. Thanks for your jacket. Here."

She shrugs it off, hands it to him and starts to climb the stairs before Sirius, probably reluctantly, can offer her more help to find her way back to Gryffindor common room.

"OK," she hears him behind her. "I'll be up later with some snacks to keep us awake with the Transfiguration essay."

Hermione casts a glance over her shoulder, and sees Sirius and Marlene still embracing.

"I missed you. You've been gone for more than a week," she hears him say softly.

"I know. I missed you too. I wrote to you. Why didn't you answer my letters?"

Sirius shrugs and pulls Marlene to his chest.

"You're here now. Everything is well again in the world."

Hermione climbs the stairs quickly. She really, really wants to get away from the tender scene as quickly as possible.

_Fool. What did you expect? Him living as a monk waiting for a weird girl from the future? What you had that time he kissed you in the library was long after this pretty, pretty girl had died, the First Wizarding war, and his incarceration in bloody Azkaban. Do you really think he'd be desperate enough to look at you twice before that? And even later, it was probably just pity on his part. You look like an anorexic ghost. Fool. He's just being polite showing you around, lending you his jacket, asking about your family._

Out of breath, Hermione climbs through the portrait hole and into the common room. Her other new friends sit around a table cluttered with books and rolls of parchment.

"Hermione! You're here. Just in time." Remus friendly smile soothes her foul mood. She takes a seat by the table, noticing Lily and James holding hands.

"Where is Sirius?" Lily asks. "He promised to make sure you got back properly."

"He met someone. Someone who's been away. His girlfriend."

All four of them look at her with blank faces.

"His girlfriend?" Peter asks. "Really? Who?"

"Well, her name is Marlene. She just got back from… I don't know where."

James and Remus laugh out loud, Peter looks confused and Lily giggles.

"His girlfriend? That would be the day. No, no Hermione. They are definitely not together," Lily says.

"They're not?" It bugs her that she can't keep the far too happy tone out of her voice.

"No," Remus says. "They are friends. Really good friends. She's in Ravenclaw. They met playing Quidditch in fourth year. Marlene isn't interested in Sirius in that way, and she is his… well, cover."

"Cover?"

"Well, that good-for-nothing Black," James says, "seems to be irresistible to the girls…."

"Some girls," Lily adds.

"Yeah, some girls. Especially from Slytherin. Something about reforming him back to the ways of his forefathers'… He's from a rather complicated family, you see…"

"Yes, he told me."

"Good. So, anyway, since our fourth year some of them have been begging him to take them out, offering all sorts of interesting… well… services. He grew really sick of it and decided with Marlene that they would play sweethearts to each other just to put an end to the chase. Marlene also has her fair share of admirers, but is far too ambitious to spend her time dating. She only has time for studies and Quidditch."

Hermione's heart feels a pound lighter, and she tries her hardest to hide it.

"Oh. I must have misunderstood. They just seemed so close."

"But they are," Lily assures her. "Just not romantically."

"OK. Fine. Whatever. Now, Remus, can I see your notes on Draught of Living Dead?"

Smiling Remus hands her a long roll of parchment, filled with his neat and clear handwriting. While she reads it Sirius arrives, a little out of breath. He has a tray of sandwiches with him and reminds them all to thank the house-elf Penny for them. Hermione raises an eyebrow at the revelation that Sirius doesn't regard house-elves in general the way he did Kreacher later.

Hours later only Remus, Sirius and Hermione are left around the table. Remus and Hermione discuss the difference between Star Grass and Moon Grass salves, and on what kind of injuries one or the other is most adequate.

Sirius leans his head on to the table surface and sighs. The others break off their discussion and give him a surprised look.

"What is it, Pads?" Remus asks.

"It's 1:30 in the bloody morning. How long can you actually talk about Herbology without turning into a turnip?"

"Oh," Hermione says. "I didn't realise it was that late. I just want to run one more thing with Remus. If it's OK with you, Remus?"

"Of course. I love it when you talk dirty to me," he smiles jokingly.

Sirius sits up straight and gives his friend a dark look. When he realises it's only a joke, he smiles unconvincingly.

"Well, I'm off to bed. I won't bring you back breakfast in bed tomorrow, Moony. If you are attempting suicide by an intellectual overdose, it's your problem. Good night, Hermione. There are a few sandwiches left. You look as if you need one."

Hesitantly Hermione takes one of the ham sandwiches Sirius brought up from the kitchen earlier, and starts nibbling on it.

_Look as if I need one? Anorexic ghost, yes._

"Good night, Sirius. Thanks for the snacks. See you tomorrow."

When the stairs up to the boys' dormitory have stopped creaking under Sirius's steps, Remus and Hermione return to the subject of magic salves.

"What about Sun Salve?" Remus asks. "It's mostly used in colder climate, on frostbite curses. I think you need Fanged Geranium to make it."

Hermione reaches into her bag and picks up her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, and looks it up in the index.

"Yes, you are right, but Fanged Geranium doesn't grow north of Spain. They need to import Sun Salve to Iceland and Scandinavia."

"Let me see."

She hands Remus her book and leans back in her chair to watch him. He is such a copy of herself when it comes to academic studies. And now, before the First War and his lonely years after the war when his Lycanthropy broke him down little by little every month, he is such a sweet young man. Nothing of the tiredness and depression Hermione often sensed when she met him as an older man. She thinks about the extracurricular lessons he gave Harry in their third year, when Sirius was on the run and generally acknowledged to be an escaped mass murderer. How did Remus feel about teaching a best friend's son defence magic in fear of another best friend?

"Hermione? Hey. I think you fell asleep. It's 3 in the morning, it will be dawn soon. Let's get some sleep."

She smiles sleepily at Remus and starts to put her things in order.

"Here," he says. "Your Herbology book."

"Thanks." She puts it in her bag. When she looks up to say good night Remus looks at her strangely.

_Did I say something in my sleep?_

They find their respective ways to their different dormitories. When Hermione brushes her teeth she thinks about Remus's sharp, quizzical look. It was not the way Sirius looks at her, as if he has trouble placing her, but quite the opposite, as if Remus knows far too much about her. It doesn't really worry her because she trusts Remus, but she is curious about what goes on in his quick mind.

**Sirius**

"You know, Hermione thought you and Marlene were an item, yesterday?" James says with a chuckle when he and Sirius are on their way down to breakfast the next morning. Sirius flinches.

"Shit! No, I mean, did she? I didn't think… and I had really missed Marlene. Did you put her right?"

"No," James says as if he can't see the urgent look on his friend's face. "We just agreed with her that you and Marlene were as close as, I don't know what metaphor we used, peas in a pod? Why, I thought you wanted everyone to think that you and Marlene were together? We don't know this Hermione yet, she might turn out to be just as clingy as Shafiq-girl from last year. The one who told you she could make you…"

"Oh, shut up! I don't even want to think about her. The tackiest bitch I've ever met. Really close to Bellatrix and Narcissa. A girl my mother would approve of. But I don't want Hermione to think I'm with Marlene."

"Really?" James eyes widen in fake surprise. "But you've told me and Remus and Peter that…"

"I know what I've told you, you twerp. But, but…"

"But, but…" James mimics him without being able to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Calm down, of course we told Hermione you weren't with Marlene, but that it's only your brilliant cover to be left alone. We said that we were surprised Hermione hadn't noticed how you look at her, all moony eyed and lost for words. She was appalled."

Sirius stops just before the open doors leading into the Great Hall. He faces James with black eyes and a stern face.

"Tell me now, if you want Lily to even recognise that pretty face of yours, that you are having me on, and that you didn't, under any circumstances, tell this new, nice girl anything that will make her think of me as a creep."

There is something truly dark in the anger that simmers in Sirius's voice. James drops the charade.

"Of course not. We just explained you and Marlene. Just before you came."

Sirius takes a step back and lets James pass him.

"Thank you. Now drop it."

Lily and Hermione aren't in the Great Hall for breakfast, or perhaps they've already been down earlier. Marlene catches his eye from the Ravenclaw table. He can read her annoyed look and tiny nod with her head in the direction of Tiberius McLaggen, who sits behind her at the Slytherin table.

Tiberius McLaggen has asked Marlene out so many times she's lost count. It appears that the word 'no' only makes him more eager to get what he wants. Sirius thinks this is stupid, and, even more, darkly sinister. Obviously McLaggen has bothered Marlene again. Marlene isn't afraid of him, merely irritated, and she laughs when Sirius tells her to be careful with McLaggen, and never mock him.

With his mug of tea in hand he saunters over to her, and sits next to her, but turned the opposite way on the bench, so McLaggen can hear every word he says.

"Morning, beautiful." He leans in and kisses her cheek. He can see McLaggen sitting up straighter. "These exam studies are killing me."

"And why is that, handsome?" Marlene asks and smiles her prettiest smile.

"I can't see you. We haven't had an evening together in weeks. It's torture. It should be forbidden to put all exams at the end of the term, the damage it does to my life might be beyond repair." He speaks a lot louder that he has to, but enjoys the effect his words have on McLaggen. The young man is turning even paler than usual, and the muscles in his jaw clench repeatedly.

"After this week it will be over," Marlene says and leans her head against his shoulder. "We'll see each other then."

When McLaggen and his chums leave the Slytherin table, Sirius and Marlene stop pretending and speak in normal voices about the Quidditch World Cup.

Sirius passes McLaggen in the Entrance Hall later and gives him a warning look, trying to mimic a protective boyfriend. On his way up the stairs he thinks about the Slytherin boy, whom he's never seen eye to eye with. He thrives on power, Tiberius McLaggen. The young men around him are more puppets than friends, eager to do whatever McLaggen tells them to do. He's rather popular with the girls, but Sirius has never seen him with the same girl twice. Sirius finds the perception of women as merely a notch in McLaggen's bedpost, slightly sickening. He knows McLaggen is friends with his brother, Regulus, and that alone makes Sirius dislike him. Regulus Black is everything their parents want in a son, Sirius is the opposite, but that conclusion is so old Sirius hardly ever thinks about it. He doesn't need his family by blood, he has his friends who are as close as family in everything but blood. His main concern today is McLaggen, and his interest in Marlene.

_There has always been something off with you, McLaggen. You're too polished, too fucking blond, as if it that golden head of yours hides something really dark. If you do anything to Marlene I'll kill you, very slowly._


	10. Chapter 10

**Dear all, **

**I'm ever so grateful for your reviews, follows and ****favorites. Also a billion thanks to my beta Donna10Girl who makes my artistic creativity clear and correct. **

**Love, Kia**

**Chapter 10**

**Hermione**

They study the better part of the days and half of the nights. Hermione, who has always studied alone, or dragged Harry and Ron through their studies, is almost happy. Sometimes she feels paralysed by regret and grief when thinking about everything and everyone she has left back in her own time line. She realises she has to stay in this time line for quite some time. Professor McGonagall said Lily had mentioned Hermione after the birth of Harry, and Harry won't be born for another two years. On the other hand, Hermione has really found her place here. It's brilliant to partake in really serious discussions about the risks of using Felix Felicis regularly, and try to work out why rabbits are more difficult to transfigure than rats. It's bittersweet to get to know Lily, whose shadow so often darkened Harry's life. Studying with Remus, rather than for him when he was her teacher, is a pleasure. And there is Sirius. Sirius who looks at her like the sun rises with her in the mornings. Sirius who brings her snacks he's finagled from the house elves, in the evenings. Sirius, whom she can't admit she knows as much about as she does. She is happy just to be in his presence and be his friend, and tries to keep her longing for him, and her memories of him, hidden. She regains some of her appetite and puts on a few pounds. Her bruises heal so she can walk barefoot or without tights under her skirt on warm evenings. But she can't convince herself that she can wear a top without sleeves, hating the mere sight of her scar, and fearing anyone would see it. See it and ask about it. Mudblood is a vile word in 1978 as well. Hermione has tried to show herself as an uncomplicated muggleborn girl. Having a scar spelling such an invective would contradict that picture.

Soon the exams are upon them and they cram the night before. Ghostlike they wait in silence in the Great Hall the next morning, and when Professor Dumbledore gives a sign everyone turns over the written exam in front of them.

Hermione has been right in her predictions. She writes about Polyjuice Potion, transfigures a frog into a frying pan, sees a large fire in scattered tea leaves and draws Lily a horoscope with lots of love and a small baby boy. On Friday afternoon she hands in her last exam paper and goes outside. She follows the path down towards Hagrid's Hut, but stops when she sees Sirius, James and Remus discussing something at the same spot where she years later will punch Draco Malfoy in the face. She hides behind a group of large rocks.

"But Marlene will understand," Sirius says argumentatively to the other two.

"Of course, she'll understand," James agrees. "She'll understand that you are an utter bastard. Who will take her to the graduation ball if you don't? You decided this at the beginning of the year. She has turned down at least ten guys. She'll be going alone, if you bail out, you coward."

"But I want to ask Hermione. I want to…"

"I know, Sirius," Remus says calmly. "We can all see that. But that is not going to happen, unless you want to confirm what so many think of you behind your back. That you are as sly and untrustworthy as your brother. This is what we'll do. I'll ask Hermione if she wants to come to the ball with me, and we'll go as a group. Peter won't be here, he'll be away on something he wants to sound very important and secret, but I think he's just going home to his mum because the girls he's asked have turned him down."

Hermione leans her back against the cold stone and stops trying to discern their voices. Her heart beats fast.

_I've forgotten about the graduation ball. He wants to go with me. With me? It doesn't matter that he won't, that he can't, because I know that he wants to. _

Preoccupied with studies Hermione has been able to hide what she feels about Sirius. What she's felt about him for more than two years, even though they've just met. She melts a little every time he smiles at her, which is often, but her structured mind has focused on academic subjects for as long as any of the others are still awake. This might be her only chance to graduate from Hogwarts. In 1978 instead of 1998. Or 1999 if she had stayed in her own, first time line, and taken her 7th year after the summer, together with Ginny.

Later the same evening, at a casual exams-are-over party in the common room, Remus asks Hermione if she wants to go to the ball with him and she accepts.

"Sirius wanted to ask you, but he and Marlene decided to go together already back in September."

"Really?" Hermione says with a blush.

"Yes, really," Remus smiles back. "Of course he did. Can't you tell?"

The ever-present blush creeps up her neck again. She shakes her head unconvincingly.

"But I'm truly happy to take you to the ball as my date. I wish you had attended Hogwarts for all my seven years here. It's been a pleasure to study with you."

"Likewise, Remus. What are you going to do after graduation?"

He shrugs.

"Academic studies, I hope. Only part time, I… Sometimes it's difficult for me to attend classes… I… never mind. I'd like to study Defense Against the Dark Arts. Counter curses and such. Sirius's uncle left a lot of material on that subject and Sirius says I can use it all as material for a thesis, as long as I'm careful," he adds with a half smile. "Sirius has gone over there now, to his uncle's house. He died earlier this winter…"

"Yes, Sirius told me."

"Apparently Sirius is the sole beneficiary of his uncle's will. All his uncle's research, his money, and his house."

"A house?"

"Yep. A nice little cottage in Godric's Hollow, do you know it?"

"I've heard about it," Hermione lies. "In the southwest, right?"

Remus nods.

"Sirius left right after the last exam. He hasn't been able to get away the last month or so, but since it's all his, it can wait. He'll be down there this summer. Me too. To go through the research and help out."

_Why are you telling me this, Remus?_

Hermione nods and tries to look as if she doesn't commit every detail about Sirius to memory.

Sirius

In another part of the United Kingdom Sirius sits on the front stairs of the cottage, which is now his. He holds a bottle of butterbeer and sips from it occasionally. Mrs Potter, James mother, has been over earlier with a basket with food. Sirius wishes he had a mother like James's, all good will, care and love. Walburga Black has never cared about Sirius after he got sorted into Gryffindor and accepted the Sorting Hat's decision. The Hat had told him he could choose, that he had what it took to be really successful in Slytherin, and Sirius knew this was true. There was, and is, enough dark inside him to obediently follow in the footsteps of his parents and the entire Black family. But the Hat had also told him that if he chose the light inside of him he could be a Gryffindor to be proud of. He has never regretted his choice.

The house behind him is a mess. His uncle had far too many things, and some of them have proved to be cursed in one way or another. Sirius cools the blisters on his right fingertips against the cold bottle. A nasty attach-and-burn curse. But Sirius has the whole summer to sort through the house. When the immediate shock and grief had passed in February, when his uncle died, he had begun to look forward to his summer. A house of his own, in the same village that James's parents live in. Remus would come and stay, and perhaps Peter too, if his mother didn't need him as she usually did.

Now the prospect of a summer hidden away from both Scotland and London seems bleak. Sirius doesn't want the term to come to its end, doesn't look forward to the graduation, which he has spent seven years longing for. Just two months ago he saw the graduation as a place in time when he could finally count himself as an adult and be completely independent, free from whatever his family or his school demanded of him. Now he doesn't want to leave the group of people he has studied with, harder than ever before during the last month. This new girl, Hermione, he thinks about her all the time, in a completely different way than he thinks about Marlene or Lily, even if he loves them both fiercely. That day, the day when Hermione arrived, he turned around and saw her walk down the stairs with Professor McGonagall. It was like a key unlocked a really old and rusty lock, inside his heart, and opening a door to feelings he learnt to suppress since he was a child. He loved his mother as a young boy, like every little boy, but at the age of five he realised that his mother didn't want any endearments, physical or verbal, from him. Trying to be close to his father usually ended in some kind of task, at which he failed and was punished. When Sirius got to Hogwarts he was already cool. Cold. Controlled. And he hadn't minded up until a month ago, seeing that thin girl walking down the stairs with the Head of Gryffindor House. She was far too skinny, looking as if she'd been severely ill, and she had all kinds of bruises and cuts. He had even noticed her limping. But something, perhaps those deep, brown eyes? That long, dark golden hair? Those long, thin fingers? That shy smile? Or that pretty blush that at least gave her face some colour? Something about her captured him in a way he was almost embarrassed about. James teasing remarks about him being tongue-tied or moony-eyed aren't far off the mark. He _is_ tongue-tied. He _can_ just sit and watch her forever. He finds everything she says interesting and clever, even though he vaguely recognises her line of academic reasoning similar to Remus's.

_What are you going to do during this summer, Hermione? Are your parents coming back and you'll spend time with them as a normal, functioning family? Or with friends from your old school? That boy Lily mentioned, who is he? Will you see him after graduation?_

He tries to swallow his sudden jealousy with the last of the butterbeer. It doesn't help. In only a few weeks their ways might part forever.

_Maybe I should go back tomorrow. Just tidy up a bit here and then drive back? Now the exams are over there is time to just… hang out. Remus is taking her to the ball. What if… They are really one of a kind, those two brainy swots. I can't understand how they do it, but they both seem to really enjoy comparing the roots of dandelion to those of hawk's beard. What if they…?_

Sirius rises suddenly, enters his cottage and slams the door behind him. He wants to get back to Scotland by tomorrow evening. Together with the green-eyed monster of jealousy he tidies up quickly and efficiently. Loads of his uncle's old things are sorted and thrown away. The two rooms of the cottage look more spacious than he thought ever possible. It looks good enough to invite guests to.

He finds them beside the Black Lake south of the castle the following evening. They are all surprised to see him a day earlier than expected, but happy all the same. Hermione sits next to Remus on a blanket and Sirius measures the distance between them with his eyes.

_Too close._

"Pads, welcome back. Good to see you. How was the trip?"

"Just fine, James. Hagrid has taken good care of the bike. Can I join you?"

"What are you talking about? Of course you can," Remus says. "Don't tell me someone taught you manners in Godric's Hollow."

Sirius sinks down on the blanket next to Hermione and pulls out a brown paper bag from under his arm.

"Some refreshments. Elf-wine and biscuits. Found them in uncle Alphard's house, well, in my house. They're not cursed, I've checked. Here, I have some glasses too."

"Thank you, Sirius," Lily smiles. "We were just about to go back and beg the house elves for snacks."

"Why do you call Sirius Pads, James?" Hermione asks.

"Because he's a dog," James laughs. "A dirty, mad dog."

Hermione's expression is confused.

"As far as I know the word 'pads' does not mean 'dog' in any European language. And you are called Prongs, Remus Moony and Peter Wormtail. Why?"

The silence is uncomfortable. Sirius wants nothing more than to tell her everything about their unregistered Animagus forms, about Remus's Lycanthropy and the brilliant map they've made to be able to see when the grounds and hidden exits from the castle are clear. But it's not his decision to take alone. He scans the others' faces. Peter looks, predictably, afraid, but James and Remus both give him a 'go ahead' silently.

"Well, during my fifth year, I looked into Animagi, and found my Animagus form. It's a dog. Padfoot."

"Really?" Hermione looks more surprised than ever. For a second Sirius thinks she looks_ too_ surprised, as if she somehow already knew this, but he knows that none of his friends would have told her without him knowing. He is the most reckless among them. If anyone would talk without thinking, it would be him, not James, Remus or Peter.

"What kind of a dog?"

Sirius draws his wand, points it away from them, thinks about what he felt the first time he saw Hermione and whispers "Patronus."

The large Irish wolfhound appears from the tip of his wand and bounces around in front of them on the shore of the lake. Hermione seems spellbound.

"It's the same as my Patronus. I think most Animagi forms are," he explains.

A discussion about Patroni and Animagi arises. Remus and Hermione hold an academic viewpoint, while James and Peter want to try anything and everything to prove any theory that comes up.

As the light spring evening turns into a transparent dusk, the discussions loose the argumentative edge and simmer down to quiet chatter. Lily and James leave, hand in hand. Sirius notices Lily whispering something to Hermione. He knows James has been put off by Lily sharing rooms, so he can't tiptoe into her rooms at night. He's still been a good sport about it. Peter joins Lily and James to walk back to the castle.

Remus, Sirius and Hermione sit still in the colourless twilight, talking very little. Sirius has no idea how much or little time has passed when Remus stands up and declares that he's tired and is going to bed.

"Oh, is it late?" Hermione asks.

"No, not really. You stay."

"Please do," Sirius says next to her. "I won't keep you late, I just want to stay outside for a little while longer. I've just been inside, in that cottage, since yesterday. And I apparated with the bike, so I missed the whole outdoor experience of driving."

Remus waves and leaves them.

"Did you get anything done with the cottage?" Hermione asks. "You weren't gone for long."

_No, I got jealous and wanted to come back to you._

"Well, I think the cottage is OK now. It's mostly been a question of throwing things away. James's parents live there too, in Godric's Hollow. Mrs Potter keeps an eye on the place for me."

"Are you going to keep it? The cottage?"

Sirius hesitates. A month ago he would have said 'yes, definitely,' but suddenly he can't see the point of settling down far out in the Southwest. Despite a reliable floo network and discreet apparation spots, which could take him to London in no time, he doesn't want to be by himself like he's always wanted before.

"I don't know," he answers. "I can't really see the cottage objectively. I think it's nice, but that's because I think about it as my uncle's and I liked to spend time there with him. Remus will come down after graduation. Perhaps he can give me some pointers about what to do with the place. Lily and James will stay with James's parents there for at least three weeks, perhaps you'd like to come too. To see if it's something worth keeping."

_Too forward. Why would she like to go to the middle of nowhere with people she's just met? You sound creepy._

"I'd love to."

"Really?" He smiles, relieved. "Haven't you got other plans? With your Yorkshire friends? And Lily mentioned something about a… about someone you care about, who had been going through some rough times."

"No, no, I haven't got many plans for the summer. I'm going to stay with my godmother, Minerva, a bit. And maybe go down to London. I'd love to come with you and the others to a bit of a countryside holiday."

"Brilliant. You are so welcome."

Hermione shivers in the thin darkness of the June night. She's wearing a denim jacket over her school cardigan, and it isn't really cold. Sirius can see that she is less skinny than when she came, but still too thin. Slowly he shuffles closer to her, attentive to see if she objects, but she only smiles that shy smile he adores.

"Come here," he says and pulls her to him, with her back to his chest, wrapping Lily's forgotten blanket around them. At first she is tense, but relaxes while he talks about his uncle's cottage and all the paraphernalia he has found there. After a while they sit in silence. Hermione leans against him and he feels as if he can sit by the Black Lake throughout the night. Maybe he will. Hesitantly he caresses her shoulders with his hands, and softly rubs the back of her neck with his thumbs. She smells of fruit and vanilla, and he wonders if her skin tastes like that too. She sighs and he fears he has made her feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he whispers. "I shouldn't…"

"Please," she whispers back and cranes her neck to her right. "I… I like it. I like your hands."

Sirius grinds his teeth to stop himself from kissing her exposed skin. He lets his fingertips explore her skin above her school cardigan, and she sighs again. His hands wander down her arms and find hers. When he has intertwined his fingers with hers and felt her returning his grip, so it's no longer only him holding her, her trusts himself to speak.

"I wanted to ask you to the graduation ball."

"I know," she answers. "Remus let it slip."

"He what? Oh, never mind. I guess I'm as transparent as a windowpane."

"No, you're not. Definitely not to me."

He is relieved. James might tease him as much as he likes and see straight through him, but Hermione doesn't seem to have seen his crush quite as clearly.

"I'm sorry I went on and on about having seen you before, when we first met," he whispers. "I really felt I had. But now, when I know you better, I know I haven't met you before."

"I told you. What convinced you?"

"I would have remembered you more clearly if I had met you before."

She is quiet and Sirius wonders if he's pushed it too far.

_You're scaring her. She'll run away._

"Maybe we have. In another world or time," she whispers so quietly he isn't sure he's heard her correctly. The fact that she doesn't run away is reassuring enough for him to lower his face to where her neck meets her shoulder and inhale her scent. His canine sense of smell strengthens the experience. Very slowly he presses his lips to her skin. She shivers again. Still holding her hands he embraces her and feels her heartbeat under the skin of his hands against her chest. His blood whooshes in his ears when he quietly mumbles against her skin.

"I've been so happy since you came. Just your good morning smile makes every day a good one. Where were you before? I wish you had been here always."

He hears her gasp, and is a little uncertain about why.

_What I did I do or say?_

"Me too," she whispers back.

"Will you please come to the ball with me?"

"No. I'm going with Remus. But I'll dance with you if you ask me."

"I will."

When she grows heavier in his arms he realises she has fallen asleep.

_Maybe I will sit here the whole night, with her sleeping. I hope so._

Despite the chill that comes with the night, he doesn't mind. He's never been overly sensitive to cold, and the sensation of Hermione in his arms is similar to that of a warm, sleeping cat. He thinks of other girls he's known, and knows. He likes girls in general, and knows how easily he can get almost any girl's attention. And apart from the sly, conceited Slytherin shrews, he likes this attention. When he was 16 he sometimes snuck out of Hogwarts in the evenings, without telling his friends, and made his way to the shabby pub The Green Lion, just in time for the barkeeper's daughter Rosmerta to finish her shift. She brought some butterbeer or elf-wine from her father's pub, and they went to her cottage to talk, drink, laugh, and, eventually go to bed. Rosmerta, ten years his senior, seemed to take the matter of teaching Sirius the art of lovemaking to heart, and she soon found that he was an apt student. In return Sirius took her for weekend-long rides on his motorbike, paying for anything that struck her fancy. He was frank with her from the start, stating his independence and his fear of any gooey sentimentality, and found, to his surprise, that Rosmerta was pretty much the same. She hated working in her father's pub, being groped by strangers every evening, and saved up all her tip money with the dream of one day opening a more respectable pub of her own. The first thing Sirius had done when uncle Alphard had died, and his gold had been moved to Sirius's private vault at Gringott's, was to beg Rosmerta to accept a loan with next-to-nothing interest rate. She had soon found suitable premises for her business The Three Broomsticks. Sirius hasn't been to bed with her for more than a year, but they are still good friends. He hasn't been to bed with any girl for more than a year. Sometimes he flirts mildly with a few of the prettiest 7th years, but taking it further would put his sweetheart charade with Marlene at risk, and he doesn't want that. He can't understand how James can juggle all his different roles at Hogwarts. He is a rather good student, a loyal friend, a secretive Animagus to support Remus at the full moon, a perfect son who writes home every week, and boyfriend, presumably lover to Lily. Sirius thinks the three first roles are quite enough. Sometimes, when his Black family background collides with the Gryffindor he's chosen to be, he becomes moody, irritable and brooding. Then he doesn't give a damn about his studies or his friends, except James, Remus and Peter and their pact to roam the grounds of Hogwarts at every full moon.

Sirius often feels ambivalent, when one of his Gryffindor friends says something, it can be anything, really, just a comment on a piece of news that makes the Black in him want to contradict them.

_The Ministry treats the house elves despicably. _

He can hear his father's hoarse voice saying that the house elves have more than enough rights and that they ought to be chained to the kitchen stove.

_The Daily Prophet doesn't write the blood status of the people they write about, anymore._

"What is the world coming to? Mudbloods ought to have a capital M tattooed to their foreheads," his mother's shrill voice pierces his eardrums, from inside.

He doesn't agree with these voices, not in the least, but he hears them and they unsettle him. He wants to agree with his friends and fellow Gryffindors without hesitation; he doesn't want the echo of his parents make him hold back, before he speaks his mind, which is as far away from pure blood supremacy as the planet Saturn.

But this new girl, this thin beauty who sleeps in his arms, despite the cold, hard ground beneath them, has changed him. The voices of his parents are beginning to fade, instead he runs things that earlier would unbalance him through "And what would Hermione think?" It's easier to agree with her; she has strong opinions about most things he has tried to stand up for his whole time at Hogwarts.

It's something about the way she looks at him. As if she's known him far longer than a month, and as if she's really happy to see him, and spend time with him. She looks at him as if she trusts him. Very few girls look at him like that. He gets hungry looks from quite a number of girls, and they scare him, even though he would never admit it. He wonders what they want from him, but is not interested enough to find out. Lily and Marlene are his only female friends. And it took a considerably longer time for him to start viewing them as friends, than it has with Hermione.

But everything is different with Hermione. Sirius wants to talk to her and kiss her. Listen to her and peel her clothes off. Discuss politics and taste her skin. Take her on a bike ride and take her to bed. He knows he is rarely this versatile in his relationships, not with anyone.

He leans against the trunk of the tree they are sitting under. Slowly he winds a stray lock of her hair around his fingers, spellbound by its silkiness. He takes off her glasses, these out-dated, but charming frames that suit her so well. He looks through the lenses. They don't change what he sees through them. He wonders why she wears them, her eyesight can't be that poor. Not like James, who is more or less blind without his glasses. When Sirius tries on James's glasses the world shrinks and he feels dizzy.

Hermione moves a little and he pulls up the blanket around them. His hands find hers and grip them. Dozing, he holds her, feeling her deep breaths and light weight.

_I could sit here forever, just… being. This is… She is… I feel as if I'm holding the whole world in my arms. What if this is it? If she is it? The one?_

Very early the next morning they make their way back to the castle. Sirius has watched the sky over the Black Lake go from dark blue to sooty grey to deep rose, while Hermione has slept.

The dawn is icy cold and they walk with the blanket around their shoulders. Sirius holds Hermione firmly around her waist, and still feels as if he is holding the whole world in his hands. She leans against him and walks almost in her sleep.

In Gryffindor common room Sirius throws the blanket on the couch and pulls her to him. She rests her head against his shoulder and tickles him with her breath.

"Sweetie. It's almost morning. It's been a lovely night. I'm so happy I spent it with you, but go to bed, you're sleeping on your feet."

Sleepily she raises her head and looks at him, smiling.

"I am. Thank you, Sirius."

Slowly he bends down and kisses her chastely on her lips. She returns his kiss softly.

When she begins to climb the stairs to the girls' dormitories he grips the back of the couch to remain where he is, and not run after her. Her dark golden hair swings, and the muscles in her calves flex.

A little later, when he flops down on his bed without undressing, and closes his eyes, he can still see her legs climbing the stairs away from him, and leaving him with the memory of her lips against his. Without noticing he falls asleep carrying the same images into his dreams.


	11. Chapter 11

**Dear readers,**

**Here is my Christmas present for you. It's a rather long chapter, and I hope you'll like it. If so, you might even drop me a line at the bottom... I wish you all a peaceful Christmas.**

**Kia**

"Hermione? Wakey-wakey?"

Hermione struggles to reach the surface of wakefulness. Lily sits on her bed-side, holding a cup of tea, smiling.

"Hm. What time is it?"

"Around noon. I heard you come in at five this morning, so I guessed you needed a lie-in. Nice night?" She raises an eyebrow, and Hermione sits up in bed, blushing but nodding.

"Someone else, who also had a late night, is downstairs in the common room, wearing the a hole in the carpet."

Not fully awake, Hermione can't really connect the dots and Lily clarifies.

"Listen, Sirius needs to leave again. His parents are raising some kind of hell because of his uncle's will, and his cottage going to Sirius. They are in Godric's Hollow and Sirius is ready to apparate. James will come with him, so both of them can stay with James's parents, if things turn out bitter with Mr and Mrs Black. They are quite difficult, as I understand it. Anyway, he wants to see you before he leaves. Do you?"

Hermione clears her throat and scrambles out of bed.

"Of course. I… We… Never mind. I'll explain later."

Lily leans back in Hermione's bed and smirks at her, while Hermione struggles with her jeans.

"Explain what, Hermione?"

Hermione gives her an exasperated look and pulls a t-shirt over her head. When she reappears Lily gasps and her expression has changed. She looks horrified.

"What is that?!"

In a fraction of a second Hermione understands that Lily has seen her scar. She feels dizzy with her secret being revealed, but she can't focus on it now. If Sirius is about to leave Hogwarts and meet his dreadful parents, she wants to see him before. Sirius didn't really leave her when they parted in the common room at dawn, but followed her into her dreams with his strong arms, warm hands and soft voice. Hermione isn't quite clear about what happened during the night and what happened in her dreams.

_Did we kiss? Did he undress me under that blanket? Focus! You have enough to hide without mixing up reality with your dreams!_

Slowing down for a few seconds, she hides her scar with her right hand and looks straight at Lily.

"I'll explain that later, too."

She tries to smile, but feels it comes out as a grimace. On her way out of the room she pulls on her black cardigan, which certainly covers the vile scar Bellatrix has marked her with.

Sirius is standing at the bottom of the stairs in the common room and looks up when she comes rushing in. His warm smile and outstretched arms do nothing to clarify what are memories and what are dreams in Hermione's mind. When she finds herself pressed to him she realises it doesn't matter anymore.

"Sweetie, I need to leave. My mother…"

"Lily told me. I'm so sorry, Sirius. What do they want?"

He shakes his head and shrugs.

"No idea. It can be Mother's hunt for a particular heirloom, or just making a fuss about the cottage going to me and not me and Regulus, my brother. He's in Slytherin and far more popular with our parents."

There is a sad note in his voice and Hermione is lost for words.

"But listen, never mind them. I'll sort them out. Remus has given me a book on wizarding laws about wills and estates. I just wanted to say how much I loved sitting with you by the lake all night."

"But I fell asleep. I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be. I'd do it again, any night."

He cups her cheek and strokes her lower lip with his thumb. She can't hold back a gasp and he leans down and kisses her. It's not quite as tender as she remembers from three Christmases ago, but more insistent. Her heads spins when she kisses him back, as hard and needy as he kisses her. She can feel his hands in her hair, his chest against hers and his slight stubble against her face, and she doesn't want him to leave, not even for a second. Not now when she finally has found him again. But she ends the kiss before she will be unable to, and remains close to him, their strained breaths sharing the same air.

"I hate my parents," he whispers. "If it weren't for them, I would…"

"The sooner you leave, the sooner you will come back," she interrupts him.

"I will be back soon. Really soon. If Mother wants the bloody house, she can have it."

"And I'll be here."

He takes a small step back, grips her arms and smiles down at her. Her gasp of pain is impossible to hide this close.

"What is it?" Sirius looks alarmed.

She wriggles out of his grasp.

"Nothing. Just a wry neck."

He doesn't believe her, she can see that clearly. She hugs him to her, so she can hide her face from him.

"I'll be here when you get back. Now leave."

Reluctantly she almost pushes him towards the door and smiles genuinely.

_He will come back. Come back here, to me._

Thankfully James puts his head through the door and side-tracks Sirius. Remus also stands outside on the landing. Sirius backs away from her all through the common room, before he disappears from sight.

Hermione sinks down on the couch in front of the cold fire-place, gripping her aching left upper arm. It has become less sore every week, but it's still far from painless.

The door opens and for a second Hermione is afraid it's Sirius who will demand an explanation to her pain. It's Remus. He takes the other end of the sofa, looking absent-mindedly into space.

"Why didn't you join them, Remus? It seems as if you at least have an inkling about bequeathed estates. I don't think either Sirius or James has."

Remus sighs and rubs his face. He looks really worried, and in an instant Hermione knows why Remus sits here with her and isn't apparating through all of Britain. The full moon is two nights away.

"I would have, but… but I have promised a friend of my father's to help him at his place."

It's vague enough. Hermione wishes she could help him. Support him and tell him that she doesn't think less of him because of his Lycanthropy. But in Remus's eyes she doesn't know. And in Remus's eyes he sees himself worth less because of his Lycanthropy.

_How will I get him to trust me? He may not even know about the Wolfsbane Potion. Or does he, and the side effects are too vile to endure?_

* * *

After tea Hermione takes a walk on the forest side of the castle. The early June sun is warm and when she comes back she doesn't go inside, but stays outside in the sun. She is avoiding Lily, doesn't want a conversation with someone who looks at her like Harry does. Somewhere above her a window opens.

"Miss Granger? Hermione?"

Blinking in the sunshine Hermione looks up and sees Professor McGonagall lean out two floors above her.

"Can I trouble you to come to my rooms, Miss Granger? I know it's Sunday, but if you don't…"

"Certainly. I'll be right up." Hermione jumps to her feet.

"From what I can see you are settling in well, Ms Granger."

"Call me Hermione, please, Professor."

"Hermione. Well, you are not an ordinary student, so why not?"

"And, yes, I am finding by bearings, little by little. Lily, Miss Evans, is really generous and kind, but I knew that from the start."

"So you will meet her in your time line, too," Professor McGonagall asks casually.

Hermione frowns, not immediately grasping how the younger Professor McGonagall can come to that conclusion. Hot tears rise in Hermione's eyes before she can control them, and her chest feels tight. Her arm aches like never before.

"Dear girl, what did I say? I know I shouldn't ask you about the future but now I'm really alarmed. Please, tell me. You will not meet her in your time line, but you will know about her, is that so?"

Hermione nods.

"But how?"

Hermione's mind races.

_What can I say? I can't tell her that Lily dies in 1981, I can't even think about it myself._

"The boy," she says eventually. "The boy you wrote about, or will write about, in that letter I brought with me. He is, he will be Lily's son. We were, we are in the same year at Hogwarts. I'm sorry, I can't tell you more. I shouldn't…"

The professor holds up her hand to stop Hermione's ramblings, and they sit in silence for a while.

"But now we are here, and we need to live in the present," the older woman says after a while. " The reason I called you up here is to ask you about your future. Your future here, after the graduation. Have you thought about what you'd like to do when you leave Hogwarts? I usually have these conversations with 6th year students, but since you…"

"I know," Hermione smiles. "I've had this conversation with you before, in my time line."

"Oh dear. The mind boggles," Professor McGonagall mutters. "But very well then, what did you tell me when you and I talked about your future, in the future?"

Hermione smiles sadly. In her sixth year she lived, slept and breathed defence charms, attack curses, lethal potions; in short, magic for war. She knows, better than everyone else in the now of 1978, that a war is coming. In history books it will be noted as if the First Wizarding War began 8 years ago, in 1970, but the conflicts around the world won't escalate into real war until 1980, and end abruptly on the 31 October one year later. The date that is carved in stone on the grave yard in Godric's Hollow with James and Lily's names next to it. She knows she is not allowed to change the outcome of that. No matter how much she wants Lily to live, Hermione's knowledge is the perfect example of Dumbledore's 'for the greater good.' It's not Harry who undoes, or will undo, Voldemort, it's Lily. Her sacrifice, sprung out of pure love, will put an end to the First Wizarding War. It doesn't matter how much Hermione has learned about warfare through practice and books and listening to everyone she's ever looked up to; it's love that will end this war, and nothing Hermione can contribute will change that. At worst her warfare skills would only add to the death toll.

"It doesn't matter what I said then," she says. "When I leave Hogwarts in July I would like to do research. Academic research in the field of Potions. I'm particularly interested in the Wolfsbane Potion, which Mr Damocles invented a few years ago."

Professor McGonagall looks truly surprised.

"The Wolfsbane… Of course I've heard about it. When it first came out on the market, it was very promising, but the side effects are… well, in some cases, they are even worse than the Lycanthropy itself."

"Yes, I have suspected as much. And I'd like to work to produce a better potion with fewer side effects. If Mr Damocles would let me."

"Damocles is dead. He died two years ago. And his original notes on the potion were never found. I believe that's why the potion has so many side effects. The apothecaries make it from inconclusive formulas."

"No," Hermione whispers. "I had hoped…"

"I've spoken to the other teachers. They are indeed impressed by you, Hermione. You know so much, sometimes even more than a few of the teachers. May I ask why you are so interested in this Wolfsbane Potion? The Werewolves are not well regarded in Britain, not anywhere, and many of them don't even want a potion to quell their transformations."

"But some do. All of them aren't bloodthirsty monsters," Hermione snaps. "There are werewolves out there who would do anything to stop them from transforming every full moon. The older they get, the more they pull away from society, hiding in shame. No one wants to hire them for qualified professions, even if the werewolves agree to incarceration during the full moon, or sedation with Draught of the Living Dead."

_Remus hadn't had a proper job for years when Dumbledore hired him in my third year. _

Professor McGonagall watches her with wide eyes.

"I can tell this is something of a passion for you, Hermione. In your time…" Suddenly Hermione can see the penny drop. The whole academic staff knows about Remus now, and Professor McGonagall knows that Hermione and Remus will be close in the future.

"Does he know that you know? Mr Lupin?" the older woman asks.

Hermione shakes her head with tears in her eyes.

"No, and I can already see him withdrawing, thinking he's unworthy of a lot of things. Supporting Sirius now, in Godric's Hollow, for instance. Higher education. He tries to hide the side of his face that has the most recent scars. And the scars he wears now are nothing to what he will have. Do you think this would be a way of changing the past too much, professor? In my time there is a potion he takes. It also has side effects, but he has told me that they are nothing compared to when he was younger. I know Severus Snape will be able to brew this potion, in the future."

"Severus?" Professor McGonagall looks stunned. "Severus is very bright in Potions, but I can't see him devoting his time to research the Wolfsbane Potion. Do you know him? He's in Slytherin, the same year as you."

Hermione shrugs.

"I will know him later. I've only seen him now. Lily is worried about him."

"Yes, yes, they used to be friends. Well, Severus is going to stay here at Hogwarts next year, as an apprentice to Horace Slughorn. A few of our professors offer apprenticeships, as I'm sure you know."

_Until Griselda Marchbanks will reform the whole educational system in less than 10 years._

Hermione smiles blankly and searches for a comment to what the other witch just said when an echo rings inside her head.

_I am merely looking for a bright student to conduct extracurricular research into the Wolfsbane Potion for the next academic year, and wondered if you might be interested, Miss Granger._

_Professor Slughorn! He asked me himself. And he's not more interested in werewolves than Severus Snape. Did he ask me because he knew I had done it before? Will I do it now? After the summer?_

"Personally, I agree with you, Hermione, and I applaud every effort to help the werewolves. How about if I ask Professor Slughorn if he would consider two apprentices?"

Hermione hesitates.

_Working with Severus Snape for a whole year? He will recognize me later._

She realises he already has recognised her in her other time line. And that they weren't the closest of friends the first time around. A memory so old she is surprised it's still stored in her mind surfaces. It's from their third or fourth Potions class in her first year. Professor Snape had just snapped something at Harry and ignored Draco Malfoy's snigger, when he turned to look at her, sitting next to Harry. The first year students had already come to terms with their professor's habit of long pauses where he let his penetrating, dark eyes speak for him. He was looking directly at her, and she could see the shadows of conflicting emotions in his rigid features. He especially looked at her hair, which was as bushy as ever.

"But little Miss Know-it-all will of course enlighten us on Grindylows' Horn, as always."

Hermione had never understood why Professor Snape had been almost as spiteful to her as he had been to Harry, but maybe, just maybe he had recognized her. In 1998, Remus had mentioned Snape as one of the people she would meet in the past. Were they to meet as fellow apprentices? Was she, or he, the one who would develop the Wolfsbane Potion to an efficient and tolerable potion, under the supervision of Professor Slughorn?

"I would like that very much, Professor McGonagall. I have some recent books, recent in the 90s, about potions for magical infections."

"With you?!"

Hermione laughs.

"Well, I'm rather good with the Undetectable Extension Charm."

"I'll. I'd be surprised if Horace objects. He is truly impressed by your exam essay on the Polyjuice Potion, wherever you came to be an expert on that. I doubt I would want to know."

Hermione shakes her head with a giggle.

"No, Professor. You don't want to know."

Hermione stands up to leave, when her professor gestures for her to sit down again.

"We spoke about Remus's scars. How is yours?"

The happy note is gone from her voice. Reluctantly Hermione answers.

"It still hurts. Not as much, but when someone touches it, I mean, grabs me…"

"As in grabs you hard? Who would…? Has someone…?"

"No, not at all. Just… holds me."

"But it's healed on the surface? The gash hasn't opened or bled again? Can I see it?"

With her head turned away Hermione shows her arm and feels the other woman's cool fingers softly stroking her skin.

"Why don't you want look at it, Hermione?"

"It's so disgusting."

"Are you ashamed about your background as a muggle born, Hermione?"

"No! No," she says calmer. "It's not that. It's just… When it was done… I've never been so afraid in my life. I wasn't afraid of dying, I was afraid I wouldn't die and that Bel… the person who did it would torture me even more."

"But Hermione, no, look at me. There are admittedly and sadly a few students here at Hogwarts who would approve of the word your scar forms. Not many, but a few. But not among the group of students you spend your time with. Both Mr Potter and Mr Black are from pure-blood wizard families, but they would never use a word like 'mudblood' for someone from you background. They would die protecting Miss Evans, who has the same background as you. And Mr Lupin knows well enough about unfair labeling on people."

"I know," Hermione says. "It's not that. Well, not only at least. But to have this carved into me contradicts how they see me. I've been avoiding Lily all day, because she saw my scar this morning, before I rushed off."

"Your friends, your new friends will not think less of you because of your scar, whatever word it is. They will think you very brave and realize that you've been through a lot more that they have yet."

"Yes, I guess so. But they will ask me about it. I can see how James, Remus and… and Sirius will be upset about it, wanting to know who did it and… I just don't want to tell more lies than I already have."

She rubs her face, suddenly tired.

"I understand. Maybe you can tell them that you really don't want to talk about it."

"Yes, maybe," Hermione sighs.

"Because it will be difficult to find a pretty ball gown to cover it. I can teach you a spell to hide it, but it will only be temporarily. Women of my age go to balls with long-sleeved dresses, but not you."

The change of subject makes Hermione's head spin. The ball. Remus is taking her to the ball. Sirius will be there and he will ask her to dance.

"Have you got a shrunken ball dress with you as well?" Professor McGonagall smiles and Hermione shakes her head. "What about money?" Hermione nods. "Well, since all you 7th graders are mostly free for a couple of days, I suggest you go to Diagon Alley and find yourself a dress. Perhaps Miss Evans would like to come too. I can arrange a port key."

Hermione hasn't even thought about a ball dress. She'll need one, of course. The prospect of doing something so… so casual as buying a dress is as far from her mind as the moon.

_But Remus would probably be grateful if we went. He wouldn't have to lie through his teeth about going away, when he actually only would go to the Shrieking Shack with Peter._

"All right. I'll ask Lily."

"Fine. And I'll ask Professor Slughorn about the apprenticeship."

* * *

When Hermione climbs into the common room Lily sits by the table where they have studied every night for weeks. She smiles at Hermione.

"Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you."

Hermione sits down opposite Lily. The common room is empty. Slowly and with shaking fingers she takes off her cardigan and rolls up the sleeve of her t-shirt. The scar is red and the invective is clearly readable. Lily looks shell-shocked.

"Who…? Why…?"

Hermione shrugs.

"Someone did this to me. Someone who doesn't approve of muggle born witches. The knife was cursed and it took a long time to heal. It still hurts a bit. I don't really want to talk about it much."

"Was this why you left your other school?"

_Where will this lead, if I go along with that lie? Is there any grain of truth in it if I say 'yes'? Damn it, Lily, I left for you. For Harry. Left my other school, which is the same as where we are now. Left my other life with what you left behind when you…_

Hermione sobs quietly and nods.

"But…? But didn't anyone…? I mean, this should be reported to… I don't know, the Law Enforcement Department at the Ministry. People can't just carve things like that into someone and get away with it!"

Lily looks so like Harry did when he first saw her wound when they were staying in Bill and Fleur's house, just after Dobby had died. This makes it even harder to stop crying.

"I know. But it was done, and with the conflict between the pure-blood members of Parliament and the others, it won't be regarded as a crime. They have gained so many votes. Most of them belong to the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I think the agitation in the Ministry and the Parliament might lead to a full blown war, eventually. This is nothing. It's just really disgusting."

Lily touches her arm softly, below the scar.

"No, it's not disgusting. You have been very brave. You don't have to talk about it, and I won't ask about it. But you can't go around hiding it, being afraid someone sees it. You can't see the word itself, unless you're really close. But you can't be afraid of closeness because of it."

Hermione looks at Lily with a heavy heart.

"I've seen you wearing that cardigan, or a hoodie when it's far too hot to wear them. And I've seen the way Sirius looks at you. And the way you look at him. Are you always going to dress for arctic temperatures for him?"

Hermione shrugs.

"How will he react, do you think?"

"He'll be furious, of course. I don't know anyone so opposed to pureblood supremacy as he is. But explain it as you did to me. Tell him you really don't want to talk about it, and he won't. He'll do anything you'll say."

Lily laughs when Hermione looks surprised.

"Where have you been all day? Apart from hiding from me?"

Hermione explains and they talk about their plans for their lives after Hogwarts. Lily wants to go to nursing school to become a medi-witch. The school is in London. Hermione hasn't thought about her new friends leaving Hogwarts. If Professor Slughorn agrees to take her on as an apprentice, she might be all alone.

"Remus might stay here," Lily says. "He's applied to the post as a junior teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"He will?"

"Yes. If Professor Merrythought will have him, but I suspect so, she's really old. Most of the things we have learnt are things we have suggested ourselves. She's only provided the theory and left the practice to us. But Sirius and James are both going to the Ministry's Auror training in London. Peter will go home to his mum, I think. She is poorly and needs him."

"Um, Lily? Would you come to London with me? I haven't got a dress for the ball, and Prof… my godmother said she could arrange a port key."

"Well, of course. When do we leave?"

* * *

Diagon Alley looks the same as when Hermione came there the first time. She tries to shut the memories of the later Diagon Alley out of her mind. When shops were closed, windows broken, gas lamps shattered and all dark creatures of the night were lurking around every corner.

At Madame Malkin's they find a dark grey velvet dress with silver trimmings. It has short sleeves that will cover her scar, unless she moves. She is reluctant to try it on when Lily watches, but the other witch politely averts her eyes until Hermione had got it on properly.

"You look like a dream, Hermione." She touches the fabric. "A really soft dream. He'll hold on to you the whole night."

Hermione makes a blank face to Lily's frankness.

"Sirius, silly. Yes, I know you're going with Remus, but Remus was not the one pacing the common room two days ago when you slept."

Hermione buys the dress.

A little later they have an ice-cream at Florean Fortescue's, and Hermione hesitantly browses what Lily said about Sirius.

"But it wouldn't feel right. I mean, he's going with Marlene. I don't want her to be a… a moping wallflower because of me."

"Well, you don't know Marlene like I do. She would really love if Remus somehow lost his date and she could… well, step up."

"Remus? Really?"

"Why so surprised? Have you got anything against Remus? Don't you think he could turn a girl's head?"

The sharp tone in Lily's voice reveals, or at least indicates, that she knows about Remus's Lycanthropy but would defend him against any prejudice Hermione might have against werewolves.

"Of course he can. He's really, really sweet. I just… Marlene… As you say, I don't know her, but you've said she only got time for studies and Quidditch."

"She's been away, trying for the Keeper position in Kenmare Kestrels. I hope she'll get it. She's magnificent on the pitch. Ravenclaw has won the House Cup for three years running because of her. But anyhow, she's really sweet on Remus, but since she and Sirius decided ages ago they were going together she sticks with that. Or, more correctly, I made her stick with that. She wanted to get out of it and ask Remus herself, it was two months ago, before you came, but I said Sirius would have hell, if it came out that he didn't have a date. Those Slytherin girls…"

Lily makes a sour face.

Hermione laughs. She hasn't really been able to shake the image of the smiling Marlene in Sirius's arms out of her head.

_But Remus will turn her down. He'll think of his Lycanthropy and back off. Like he did with Tonks._

"What have you done to him, Hermione? He's like a different person. Before there wasn't a week going by without Sirius disappearing somewhere, brooding and thinking about his background. The merest glimpse of blood purity issues in the Prophet would make him walk off, as if it somehow was his fault. That hasn't happened once since you got here."

Hermione blushes.

"I don't know. We just… well, seem to get along."

"I'll say. Now, is there anywhere else you'd like to go before we head back to Scotland?"

"Yes, Flourish and Blotts."

But the bookshop has very little to offer in the field of potions for infections of the blood, such as Lycanthropy. Hermione decides to make do what she already has in her miniature library.

Back at Hogwarts both girls are disappointed that none of their friends are there. Hermione guesses where Remus and Peter are, and a letter to Lily tells them that Sirius and James will stay in Godric's Hollow for a few more days.

Hermione is still aware that she is lying in her bed when she starts dreaming. She dreams about Sirius's warm hands against her skin and his soft lips against her neck. She moves restlessly and it feels as if she's really in his arms. A tapping sound interrupts her sleep. At first she refuses to acknowledge it, but the tapping becomes more insistent. When she wakes up she is alone and cold, but the annoying tapping sound is still there. Only half awake she gets out of bed. The tapping sound comes from the window and she opens it and lets in an exhausted owl. Around its leg there is a small scroll of parchment. She unties it and searches for a treat of dried chicken liver they keep on the windowsill. The letter has her name scribbled on it, but begins without any greetings.

_I just woke up from a dream where I was holding you like the other night, but warmer. I miss you._

_Apparently Mother wants my uncle's notebooks to see if he figured out any counter curses for any of the secret (and horrendous) curses that are a part of the Black family background. He has, but I've given her a counterfeit one where it's clearly stated that all the Black magic is far too advanced to ever be countered. She also wants loads of the clutter I've already thrown away._

_I can't wait to return. Will you please spend another night with me by the Black Lake? Uh, I wished it had another name. _

_Lots of kisses everywhere._

_S_

**Kia would love some reviews for Christmas... **


	12. Chapter 12

**It's been a long time since I updated, I know and apologize. Things have been difficult. However, a short and kind review the other day sparked something in me and I polished up this chapter to an acceptable publish-able standard. At least I hope so. Please review. It feels as if I'm posting into space, reaching no one. I'll update every ten review. ("Great. Update soon, pls" is not a review.) Sorry to be so confirmation seeking, but I guess I am, right now. I haven't got the energy to invest in anything that doesn't give me anything back. If TLC was for sale I'd buy it in buckets.**

**Love, Kia**

**Chapter 12**

She is in his arms again and finally he relaxes. Her thin arms are around his neck and her body is pressed against his. He pushes her top up and touches her skin. He wants her so badly he aches and he tells her so in a whisper. With a laugh she pulls off her top and straddles him. His hands slide up her sides to her breasts and she arches back with a moan. But something is wrong. The scent that fills his nose is not hers. It's dusty instead of fruity

With a groan, Sirius wakes up in the bed in his uncle's house. Apart from himself it's empty. He buries his head in the pillow and curses.

_It's bad enough I'm not focused enough to handle Mother and Father. They walked out of here with all that goblin made jewelry I wanted to keep. But now I can't even sleep because she is back in Scotland, on the other side of the galaxy. Damn._

He gets out of bed, goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. While waiting for it to boil he scribbles a note to Hermione. His uncle's barn owl still lives in the tiny owlery on top of the garden shed and Sirius whistles for it to come.

"Take this to Hogwarts, to the Head girl's rooms in the Gryffindor Tower. They have dried chicken liver treats for you there."

The brown owl takes off with a hoot.

Across the street Sirius sees a familiar figure.

"James? Is that you?"

"Sure is."

"What are you doing out? It must be three in the morning."

"No, it's not. It's just past midnight. I've just been down at the pub. It was all dark in your place so I didn't ask you. Mother has been feeding me all day, you might think I am as skinny as Hermione. I needed to get out of the house before I would burst."

"Want to come in for a night cap?"

"Definitely."

The teakettle forgotten, Sirius finds a pair of thick tumblers and fills them with fire whiskey.

"Cheers, then. To your mother's cooking."

James smiles.

"Cheers. And to your mother's absence."

Sirius laughs.

"Thank Merlin she left. Are you ready to go back tomorrow, or do you want to spend more time with your dad? We've been here four days already."

James's dad has been terminally ill for as long as Sirius and James have known each other. Having suffered from Scrofungulus as a youth, James's father never recovered properly. During James's childhood his father could still work as a writer of children's books, but for the last two years he has been more or less bedridden. Since last autumn he's been close to dying a number of times. Sirius has been over to see him. He looks like a skeleton, lying in his bed, talking in whispers. James's father's emaciated condition might be the reason James's mother always tries to feed both James and Sirius with an endless supply of mouth-watering treats.

"If it's all right with you, I want to stay until tomorrow evening. I think this might be it. I don't think he'll live much longer. I hope he won't. He's in terrible pain, even though he tries to hide it. It would be better for him if he died. In his sleep."

James's brown eyes are calm but sad. Sirius respects what his friend says and feels almost as sad as James at the thought of the gentle Mr Potter dying.

"Of course we'll stay then. And you can always borrow the bike if you need to return before graduation. You'll be coming here directly after, won't you?"

James nods.

They drink in silence.

"Um, I've asked Hermione to come and visit this summer, too. Do you think she can stay at your parents' house? I mean, their house is a lot larger than this."

James feigns he doesn't understand the question.

"Yes, of course, but there is a bed in this cottage, isn't there? Surely it's large enough for her too?"

Sirius mutters something under his breath.

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm not sure she wants to stay here. With me. What if… Lily said there was someone… At her other school."

"Well, he's not here now, is he? And she said she wanted to come here, didn't she? I doubt it is to explore the village or take long countryside walks. You don't see it, do you? The way she looks at you?"

Sirius mutters again.

"It's hard to hold a conversation with you when you only growl, Padfoot. If she said she wanted to come here, it's because you'll be here."

"Do you really think so?"

"No. I know so. I'm an expert on female hearts. You remember how long Lily thought she hated me…"

"Well, she did, you were an absolute prat. I was surprised she didn't ask to switch house to Ravenclaw because of your stalking."

"I did not stalk her!"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, maybe a little. But I knew she loved me. Ever since our first year."

Sirius laughs and feels a little jealous of James certainty.

"But of course I'll ask Mother to take her in if you think she'd like that. Oh, Mother will love the challenge to feed her. It must be something wrong with her, the way she looks isn't healthy."

Now Sirius really growls at his best friend.

"There is nothing wrong with her! She's just… perfect."

"She's as skinny as a scarecrow, and you know it."

"She's put on some weight," Sirius mutters.

"Has she? And how do you know this, Pads?"

"Well… she has. What do you think happened to her before she came to Hogwarts, James? She looked like…"

"Like she'd been to war. Maybe she's been a spy at the Ministry, trying to map out the groups within the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And suddenly her cover was blown and whoever was responsible for her safety needed to get her out of the picture."

Sirius chuckles.

"You could very well follow in your father's footsteps and become a writer, Prongs. No, but I think she went through something really hard. She had all those cuts and bruises. And she was limping at first. She seemed to be in so much pain. Still is sometimes." Sirius thinks about Hermione's reaction when he gripped her around her arms. "Do you think she'll ever trust us enough to tell us?"

James gives his friend an amused look.

"No, but I think she already trusts you enough to tell you everything."

"Really?" Sirius is embarrassed by the eager tone in his voice.

"Yes, really. If I weren't the gentleman I am," he winks, "I'd tease her as much as I tease you. Can't you see the way she's looking at you?"

Sirius smiles.

"Sometimes."

"Think about it. Here she comes, out of nowhere, from Merlin knows where, and in less than two days she talks to us, and especially to you, like she's known you forever. And you weren't at all as dismissive as I've seen you with every other new person we've met for seven years. It's like you… I don't know, just clicked from the start."

Something does click inside Sirius heart at James's words. The image of a key in an old lock swirls through his mind.

The night becomes dawn while they talk. When the dark sky begins to lighten, a tap on the window makes them both flinch. Sirius goes to let in a grey owl. Around its leg is a small roll of parchment attached.

_You woke me up from the same dream. Now I can't sleep. _

_Lily and I have been to London to buy a ball dress. I've applied for an apprenticeship with Professor Slughorn next year. _

_When are you coming back?_

_H xxx_

Sirius shares some of the letter's contents with James.

"I can see how studying for Slughorn would suit her, but that would mean she'd stay in Scotland while we go to London. I don't want that."

"Maybe you could buy one of those permanent Portkeys? I know they are expensive, but…"

"Damn, I should have fought Mother on that goblin gold. Never mind, there is a lot more in my vault."

Sirius sends the owl back to tell Lily and Hermione that they will be at Hogwarts the following evening.

* * *

When they land unsteadily on the apparition spot in Hogsmeade, it's almost dark, and when the castle comes into view it gleams like diamonds on black velvet. Both Sirius and James sprint up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

Lily, James and Peter sit in front of the fire. Remus looks beaten and Sirius understands how horrible the full moon has been to him, with only Wormtail for company. Lily jumps to her feet and into James's arms. They move over to a deep armchair in the other end of the room, kissing and talking.

Hermione is nowhere to be seen and Sirius doesn't want to seem too desperate to ask. Instead he sits with Remus and Peter, listening to their account of the full moon two nights ago. Rather soon he finds himself alone on the couch, when Remus and Peter have gone to bed. He hasn't even noticed Lily and James leave.

_Where is she? Why didn't I ask them? They would have said if something was wrong, wouldn't they? The library. I bet she's there. I'll go there now._

But before he can put his thoughts into action, the portrait hole swings aside and Hermione climbs into the common room. Sirius stands with his back to the fire, watching her. She hasn't seen him yet, and straightens her hoodie, before she sighs deeply and scans the room.

"Finally," he says. "What took you so long?"

She lights up when she sees him, but doesn't move.

"Professor Slughorn wanted to talk to me. We have discussed…"

"I don't care. Come here."

She smiles and walks towards him, slowly but gracefully. When she is just in front of him she stops. The fire casts reflections over her features and gives the illusion of different emotions crossing her face. Slowly he pulls her against him and releases a breath he's been holding ever since she came into the room.

"I was going mad with missing you," he murmurs against her hair. She shivers. He starts kissing his way from her temple, down her cheek, her jawbone, her neck. When he reaches the hollow between her collarbones she moans quietly, and the sound lights a fire inside him. His lips find hers and he kisses her with all the longing and desire that's been building inside him for the last days. She answers his kisses just as hard and as desperately, and he wants to feel more of her. Quickly he peels off her hoodie and kisses and nibbles the newly exposed skin. He takes a few steps backwards until he can feel the edge of the couch against his calves and sits down, trying to pull her with him, but she remains standing. When he looks up at her she looks uncertain, almost afraid.

"Please," he whispers. "I won't do anything you don't want to do. Please, just come here."

She sinks down next to him, not in his lap, as he wants. When he leans in to kiss her again, she withdraws. He lets his right hand drop from her left shoulder to her arm, and she gasps. Instantly he lets go of her.

"What is it? What did I do?"

She creates some space between them, and Sirius is terrified she'll get up and leave. She doesn't, but clears her throat.

"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. I missed you too. I just need to show you something."

Her right hand clutches her left arm for a few seconds before she holds it out for him to see.

Mudblood.

He recognises the word, but at first he can't place it. When the voice of his mother echoes inside his head, and he suddenly knows perfectly well what the word means, he actually thinks he will faint.

"I think you should know this, see this, before we… well, go any further."

He doesn't understand what she means.

"This is what I am and will always be in the eyes of some people," she whispers, looking into the fire.

He doesn't know what to say. Softly he strokes his fingers over the word carved into her skin. It's hot and the skin seems very thin.

"Does it hurt?"

She shrugs.

"Not right now."

He leans in and kisses the angry, red scar. She flinches but he pulls her back.

"Does that hurt?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you think I'd ever use this word, in any context? Look at me please."

Reluctantly she does and the grief in her eyes almost breaks his heart. It's the same grief he sometimes sees in Remus, when he comes to after a full moon and realises that he's inflicted wounds on both himself and his friends. Sirius has a long scar across his chest from where Remus, in his werewolf form, tried to cut open his heart with his sharp claws. Hermione shakes her head.

"Who did this to you?"

She just shrugs again.

"You won't tell me, or you can't tell me?"

After a few silent seconds she whispers.

"I can't."

"I wish you could."

She nods.

"But even if you'll never tell me, it doesn't mean anything to me. The word, I mean. You are just perfect as you are. I want to be with you no matter what other bigoted people might say that you are. To me you are the sweetest girl I ever met. Will you please come here now?"

He pulls her into his lap and she rests her head against his shoulder.

"But others might mind. Others might…"

"Shhh. I really don't care about anyone who would mind what someone… some demented person seemed fit to carve into you. Please believe me."

Hermione straightens up and searches his face for the truth in his words. He hopes she can see his absolute sincerity.

"Really?" she whispers.

"Really, really, really."

Slowly she leans in and presses her lips to his. Just as slowly he grips her around her hips and pulls her closer. Their kisses become more heated, and he struggles with her t-shirt to reach as much of her skin as possible. She tastes like something he's never tasted before. She tastes like love.

When his hands find her breasts she arches back and moans, just like she did in his dream.

"I want you so badly," he whispers.

"Me too," she mumbles back.

But in a still sober part of his mind he knows that they are in the common room, and anyone might walk in on them. He wishes they were outside, by the lake, like the other night. He would have undressed her slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin and done everything he could think of to bring her pleasure. Even though he aches to make love to her, just holding, kissing and touching her is by far the most intense pleasure he's ever experienced. In defeat he leans back and rests his head against the backrest. She follows him and kisses his neck.

"Stop," he sighs reluctantly.

"No," she mutters against his skin.

"Please, you have to… you must stop."

"Why?" she challenges and he sits up straight again, taking in her disheveled appearance. Everything about her calls to him to not stop, not to care, but somewhere he is as controlled as he was raised to be. Blacks don't surrender to anything, least of all feelings. The thought in contrast to Hermione's flushed cheeks, dark eyes and wild locks unsettles him.

"Because I can't resist you if you don't."

She doesn't answer and he can see doubt in her eyes.

"And I don't want to resist you, I want you more than ever, but look around you, love."

She does and he realizes she has been so completely caught up in their kissing that she has forgotten where they are. She smiles sheepishly, and he kisses her nose.

_It must be wonderful to forget everything and just lose yourself in… love. Only rage blinds me like that._

"Will you come to my very secluded cottage in the middle of nowhere later this summer and be this irresistible again? Please?"

Her eyes widen at his very frank words and what they entail, and she blushes. Then she nods, and Sirius pulls her to his chest and buries his face in her hair.

Hesitantly she gets up and he follows her to the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He turns her around, takes her left arm in his and softly presses his lips to the scar there. She doesn't shy away this time, and looks at him with wide eyes when he straightens up. Very slowly he traces the word 'love' with his finger against her skin.

"This is what you are. And since I plan to get to know you better than anyone ever before, I decide. If you ever feel you can tell me who carved the lie into your skin, I'll kill him."

She smiles, more sadly than he'd hoped, and pulls away from him. Again he has to grip a piece of furniture to stop himself from following her up the stairs.

**So, what now? Where will this lead?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for your support. My annoyed reviewer Molly is probably right, I'm a despicable person who loves other people's feedback om my writing. Since I've already have sunken so low, I don't bother to apologize. I still love reviews, so what's the point? Enjoy the chapter. Love, Kia**

**Chapter 13**

**Sirius**

A part of him is afraid that everything is a dream and that he will wake up to what life was before Hermione came. It wasn't bad before, but he doesn't want it back. Before, he often felt like an observer. Not when he was with James, Remus and Peter. Not with Lily or Marlene. But on the Quidditch pitch against Slytherin Sirius sometimes got confused by the teams' colours. Gold and red or silver and green? Which team am I playing for? He knew Slytherin's Quidditch fight songs better than he did Gryffindor's, because he'd know them since he was four. He often felt he belonged neither here nor there. He knew where he wanted to be, but home schooling until the age of eleven leaves traces. He felt support from his fellow Gryffindors, but also opposition and disapproval from his parents, or his parents' absence. He'd began spending Christmases at Hogwarts in his third year, and even though he was proud of his decision it felt strange to see Regulus pulling his trunk out to the carriages to take his brother to Hogsmeade railway station and home. London and Grimmauld Place. Sirius began seeing Hogwarts as his home very early, but he knew that 'home' meant a completely different thing to James, Peter and even Remus, whose parents lived as travelers to keep their son's secret. Sirius loved Hogwarts, and he knew that Professor Dumbledore would give him good enough recommendations for him to keep to his choosing of the light side inside him, even after Hogwarts, but life still often felt one-dimensional. It was his life at Hogwarts or… or nothing. Of course he'd chosen the Minstry's Auror training because James had. What else would he do?

But now, now when Hermione is here, everything is different. The thought of his inheritance: uncle Alphard's money, belongings, research and cottage, is something more than a lucky streak because it's almost next door to James's parents' house. It's a possibility. It's a hands-on possibility to broaden his horizons more than to follow in the footsteps of people he respects, loves and admires. It gives him enough ground to stand on to be able to make decisions. Decisions about a future he had always pictured living together with his loyal Gryffindor friends who applauded and welcomed him in his first year when the Sorting Hat gave him a choice and he chose what he wanted rather than what he had been raised to do. He still wants to be an Auror. The agitation in the Parliament, the whispers of groups within the Sacred Twenty-Eight and reports of people disappearing tell him that his true calling lies within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The last weeks have made him wonder though if his future lies only there, or if there might be something more. Can be something more.

If it is a dream, Sirius doesn't want to wake up. The day before the Graduation Ball something happens that would have woken him up if he had dreamt the previous months. James gets an Eagle owl with a letter from his mother. Mr Potter is no longer conscious and it is a matter of days before he will leave this world, after years of suffering from the Scrofungulus he contracted as a young man.

"I'll leave right away," James says. He looks more hard-set that Sirius has ever seen him, and Sirius wonders what it feels like to have such strong feelings for one's parents. "Can I borrow your motor bike?"

Sirius pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them to James.

"Of course. Do you want me to come with you?"

James face softens.

"Well, yes, but no. Lily will come with me."

A year earlier Sirius would have been offended by being James's second choice, but he can easily see how much more comfort Lily can bring James if… now when Mr Potter finally is about to die.

"Good. Send you mother my love. And… well…"

Lost for words he hugs James hard. When they let go James's eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

"I don't know when we'll be back. Dumbledore said not to worry about the graduation ceremony, we'll just…"

"Just go, Prongs. I'll think about you. I'm here when you get back."

"We all will," Remus says. Peter just nods. Hermione comes down the stairs to the common room arm in arm with Lily, who looks as determined as James does. In a matter of an hour one third of their little group is gone, and when Peter leaves the following morning Sirius, Hermione and Remus feel rather lost. Hermione has a meeting with Professor Slughorn about her apprenticeship and leaves them after breakfast in the Great Hall. She still hasn't been too particular about what she will work with, and the green-eyed monster of jealousy can only whisper to Sirius that she will work with Severus Snape for a whole academic year.

"I'd be surprised if they will work on the same project," Remus drawls. "Or even talk to each other."

Sirius's wonders if his friend can read his thoughts.

"What?"

"Snape. You're jealous. She's off to Slughorn's office. You were thinking about our dear friend Severus and that he will work closely with your girlfriend next year."

"I didn't say…"

"No need. You get murder in your eyes every time Hermione mentions him."

"Well… I… Wouldn't you? Be jealous?"

"Of Snape, well yes. He has the opportunity to work with a really clever witch, but knowing him, he'll just compete with her. And lose. And I doubt they have similar interests in Potion making. He'll work with something nasty, true to his habit and general Severus-ness. She will… What is she going to work with?"

Sirius shakes his head.

"Don't know. She's been rather vague. Probably something Snivellus wouldn't be interested in."

"Probably? Definitely. You know him. You know her."

Relieved, Sirius breathes a little easier and changes the subject.

"Do you think James will manage? I mean, his father…"

"His father is a very sick man, Sirius. We've both seen him. He's been suffering for years. He hasn't had any good days for more than a year. James knows that, and so do you. I hope he really dies this time around. I know it sounds harsh, but I think the pain of seeing him suffer is worse than the pain of letting him go."

"Maybe you're right," Sirius sighs and empties his teacup.

"Hello. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Marlene. Morning. Please, sit down." Sirius makes room for his date of the evening and the Graduation Ball.

"Good morning, Remus," she says with a smile so pretty Sirius is confused. "Are you both looking forward to this evening? Where is James by the way? And Lily and Hermione?"

Sirius tells her and Marlene looks appalled.

"Oh no, poor James. I really hope everything works out for the best."

"It won't," Sirius snaps. "His father is dying."

"Well, maybe then that is for the best," Marlene says softly.

"Yes, Marlene, you are absolutely right," Remus says. "Sirius, please be civil at least. I know nice is beyond you."

Sirius wants to snap at Remus again. He is irritated and sad, and he knows it is unfair to take it out on his friends. It's a day when he ought to be carefree and light-hearted, not moody and cross with the world in general.

_I need some space. I need to snap out of this._

"I'm sorry, Marlene. You are both right. So, about tonight, how about I come to the Ravenclaw Tower at seven and we'll go down together?"

Marlene beams.

"Lovely. Who is your date, Remus?"

"Um, I'm taking Hermione. I'd rather discuss spells with her than dance, but that's not on the timetable tonight."

Marlene laughs.

"It'll be a magic night. Maybe I could cut in and leave your date free to dance with someone else," she says with a nod in Sirius's direction.

Sirius leaves them chattering and climbs hidden stairs to reach the battlements. He hasn't been up here alone for more than two months, but today he needs the solitude and the blue sky above him. He reasons with himself.

_It's about control. So many things are out of my hands. James's dad dying and me not being there. The way Marlene just smiled at Remus. What is Hermione really going to work with next year? How will Remus cope, here at Hogwarts, when James and I go to London? How will I cope? And what about tonight? It's a formal thing, the ball. How much will it resemble my mother's parties? Does Dumbledore really know what some of the decorations stand for? All the silver and black on every formal gathering carries traditions and symbols from the old class society, where pure bloods ruled and everyone else obeyed, most of all the muggle-borns._

A door creaks and he turns around to see who's disturbing his self-imposed loneliness. Hermione squints in the clear sunshine and his mood lifts.

"Remus guessed I was here and told you, right?"

"No," she says. "I did. Do you want me to leave?"

Does he? His dark brooding just left with a warm summer breeze and he smiles sincerely for the first time since James received the letter about his dad. He motions for her to join him and stands behind her to lock her in between his arms and the battlements.

"No. I never want you to leave," he whispers against the skin of her neck. She flinches and gasps. Sirius tries to write her reaction off to his closeness, sincerity, the view, but something unsettles him.

"We'll both leave Hogwarts," she says and leans back against his chest. You after tomorrow, and I… well, in a year."

"So, there is nothing I could say to persuade you to come to London to work or study there?"

Hermione shakes her head.

"What are you going to work with, love? Or is it somehow classified? Something Slughorn wants to develop into a profitable product? Or something to help Snivellus to get a nose, rather than a beak? Or something for his general greasiness?"

She laughs at his suggestions, even though none of them are funny.

"You don't have to pick on Sna… on Severus at every opportunity, Sirius. He… Maybe he's not as bad as you think. Remember Lily and he were friends."

"When they were younger. She's come to her senses now," Sirius answers stubbornly.

"I think Lily always has been an excellent judge of character. You are her friend, aren't you? And James and Remus?"

"And Peter," Sirius admits reluctantly.

Hermione clears her throat and coughs.

"Yes."

"But what are you going to work with, seriously?"

She turns around in his arms so he can see her face.

"Seriously, Sirius," she articulates the alliteration in a cut-glass accent, "I'm going to develop the potion Damocles invented a few years ago to lessen the symptoms of Lycanthropy. Apparently his original formula is lost and the inconclusive copies bring more side effects than relief."

"Werewolves? Really? I never thought…"

"Never thought what?"

"Never mind. But why?"

And there, on the battlements of Hogwarts, which Sirius so often has regarded as his own private space, this lovely girl delivers a small speech about the unfair treatments of the werewolf population, with an insightful understanding of people like Remus. She doesn't mention Remus, of course. She doesn't know, does she? No, she can't know, she mustn't. Or can she? She, if anyone, would feel empathy rather than fear. Academic interest in the individual rather than applying a broad-brush approach to the whole infected group.

"So, what do you think?" She looks up at him apprehensively and with some other emotion he can't decipher. He leans down to kiss her softly.

"I think there are many wizards out there," he gestures vaguely, "who one day will own their lives to you. Be able to have a life, rather than a night of ferociousness once a month. Most of them won't, of course, many of them prefer to live outside our society, just like the vampires, but some go through hell once a month and would give anything to find a cure."

"It won't be a cure," she says sadly. "Hopefully it will inhibit the infection, but there is no knowing what the long-terms effect will be. Even if Professor Slughorn and I can improve the potion, it might not work after a while. No one knows how the infection develops over time. Untreated it becomes worse and worse. The largest risk, as I see it, is that the infection somehow changes, and the potion will lose its effect entirely."

"You sound like you do when you and Remus are discussing something really unsolvable. Have you talked to him about it?"

The words are out of his mouth before he has had the chance to think about their meaning. He searches her face for her reaction, and there is something there. Something he can't put his finger on.

"No. But I will." She turns around again and leans against him. He slowly releases his breath and wonders how things will evolve. Leaving Hogwarts. Parting with Remus. Parting with Hermione, after the summer, when they go their different ways. He doesn't want to think about it. Not now. Not today. Playfully he tickles her waist and nibbles the skin of her neck. When she giggles and relaxes in his arms he feels at least a little carefree, like he should on the day of his Graduation Ball.

* * *

**Hermione**

Without Lily Hermione worries close to tears about her appearance later the same day.

_Does this dress really fit? It shows off so much skin of my back. And these sleeves…_

She pulls at the soft material to cover more of her upper arms, but it only results in showing off more of her collarbones, which are still too visible. Professor McGonagall has taught her a spell to make the scar paler and it's probably next to invisible if you don't know it's there. Her alleged godmother also gave her a thin silk shawl, more decorative than warming, but Hermione is grateful and arranges it over her shoulders. It's silver grey with lacy endings, and very pretty.

Hermione almost has hardly any jewelry, apart from the Time Turner, which she has kept in her bedside table for the last week. Up until then she hadn't felt safe enough to leave it, but now she does. She would have liked the string of pearls her mother gave her on her fifteenth birthday, but it is still at The Burrow where she left it before she went off with Ron and Harry, almost a year ago, in that other time line. She puts a pair of silver earrings on. She found them in London, and thought they would go nicely with the dress. Now she's not so sure. They are dark silver with some kind of sparkling stones. Maybe they are too much. She rearranges her hair, making the coiffure looser and lower. It's better. The alarm clock on Lily's bedside table tells her she is to meet Remus in the common room in one minute, and with a last ambivalent look in the mirror she leaves the room.

The common room is full of 7th year students. Mostly Gryffindors, of course, but a few young men from the other houses who have come to pick up their dates. Hermione knows Sirius isn't there, but is in the Ravenclaw Tower to pick up Marlene.

Remus stands at the bottom of the stairs and looks up at her. The butterflies that sometimes make her cringe in excitement or apprehension all come to life at once. It's the day before graduation. Tonight is the Graduation Ball. She has been asked to go with Remus, whom she's known and admired since she was 13. And Sirius will be at the ball, the ball he wanted to ask her to. Despite the fact that Hermione sometimes has thought that she, Ron and Harry grew up too quickly, in their very first years at Hogwarts, this is something else. It's not war, to start with. It's not about fear and risks and death and loss. It's a traditional rite of passage for young wizards and witches. Tomorrow they will be grown ups, also in the eyes of the world. Out of school and into life. She smiles genuinely at her date. Remus looks so good in his dress robes. He presents her with a small open box, which holds a tiny arrangement of white anemones and pale green willow leaves.

"They're charmed not to wilt," he says.

"Thank you. They're lovely." She fastens them on her dress.

Remus hands her a glass of something sparkling that Penny, the house elf, is carrying around on a tray. They toast and giggle.

"Can I have at least two dances with you, Hermione? Before he literally waltzes off with you?"

"Remus," she says and blushes. "Of course. I'm going to the ball with you. I can dance every dance with you, if that is what you want, but that would leave a lot of other girls rather disappointed."

Remus coughs and does not look convinced.

"He'd eat me alive, and I really wouldn't want to be on the other side of those fangs."

Hermione feels it's going to be a good night. She has no intention of dumping Remus as soon as Sirius walks into the Great Hall; she just hopes Remus won't shy away from Marlene when asked to dance with her.

The common room is almost empty, and they make their way to the portrait hole. Outside on the landing, Remus pulls her aside and lets a few other students pass them. The stairwell hall is dimly lit with candles, and his face is in shadow when he speaks. His tone is serious, and the butterflies inside her change their dance to something more foreboding.

"Hermione, wait. There is something I'd like to…"

"Yes?" Her voice is trembling. Why?

"To ask. No, to say to you."

She waits quietly, while her mind races.

"I know your secret."

She can feel her blood leaving her head and she grips the wall to balance herself. Remus takes her softly around her waist and steadies her. There is nothing threatening about his touch, nor is it intimate like when Sirius does the same.

_Which bloody secret? I'm a walking filing cabinet of secrets! Which one has slipped out? And how?_

"What are you talking about?" she asks softly.

Without answering he touches her left collarbone with his finger.

"About what you usually have here, around your neck. A thin goblin-made gold chain, ending in a miniscule hourglass. Your Time Turner. You are a time traveller, Hermione."

"How long have you know?" she gasps.

"I saw it, or I thought I saw it the first day, when I showed you the grounds. When you picked some anemones, like these." He gestures to the flowers on her dress. "What really convinced me was that night we studied until dawn. We talked about Star Grass and Moon Grass, remember? Sirius gave up in the middle of the night, even though he was jealous as hell and didn't want to let you out of his sight."

"I remember, but how?"

"You lent me your Herbology book. Then you fell asleep. I'd never seen that Herbology book before, it's not in our curriculum, so I studied it some more. It's printed in 1995."

Hermione's knees buckles and Remus pulls her into his embrace.

_Not now. Not tonight. Not so soon._

"Is that's where you're from. 1995?" There is no accusation in his whisper.

She shrugs.

"Almost. 1998."

"Twenty years. But why?"

She shrugs again. Suddenly she feels so angry. For just a few weeks she has been able to feel like the young witch she pretends to be. A late transfer from Askrigg. Minerva McGonagall's goddaughter. And her new friends have taken care of her as kindly and welcomingly as she hoped, with what she knew about them in the future. Sometimes she's been really anxious about where it all will lead, especially with Sirius, but Sirius, on the other hand, is what's making it easier than anything else for her to stay in the illusion Professor McGonagall sent her to.

"I know about your secret too, Remus," she snaps before her mind stops her.

He straightens up, but doesn't let go of her. He is paler that she's ever seen him.

"My secret? What are you talking about?" His voice is as trembling as hers was.

Slowly she mimics his earlier movement with her finger, but traces a pale scar on the left side of his face.

"Full moon. Fangs. Losing control. Forgetting who you are." She touches the flowers on her dress. "The magic willow tree just outside the castle."

Remus's face shows so many feelings Hermione can't register them all. Fear. Anger. Relief. Sorrow.

"I never thought Sirius would…"

"He didn't," she interrupts. "As you said, as you have concluded, I am a time traveller. I've met you before. Later for you. I figured it out then."

"Did I…? Please, tell me you didn't meet me during a full moon. Please, tell me I didn't hurt you. Or anyone else."

"Once. I saw you transform once. The only time you hadn't taken your potion, the Wolfsbane Potion."

"The Wolfsbane Potion? But it's vile! The side effects are worse than… I've sworn I'll never take it again. I'd rather take the Draught of the Living Dead with a full Body-Bind Curse." He looks away, refusing to look directly at her.

Hermione puts her palm against his left cheek, over the almost invisible scars to get his attention.

"Look at me, Remus. I can well understand if you don't want to take it again, as the potion is now, but it would be a pity to say 'never', since that potion is what I'm going to work with next year, with Professor Slughorn."

Remus's amber eyes widen in surprise.

"I know a thing or two from the future. About the potion and about you. I can't tell you, or the others, exactly why I am here. I'm not allowed to change the past, merely to see some parts of it repeating itself."

"But for how long?"

"A few weeks ago you, the older you, said 'long'. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but I will definitely have time to develop that potion into an efficient formula. Some things in the future have given me hints that I've done it before, in the past. Another past. Maybe time isn't linear, but circular, and I'm bound to take this jump twenty years back again and again to refine the Wolfsbane Potion with Horace Slughorn. Eventually I might even find a cure."

The anger and fear are gone from his expression.

"You said something about a ball, Remus," Hermione says lightly. "Shall we?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," he mutters. "I need to get my head around this. It's positively mind-blowing."

"Yes, it is, but why not leave it tonight? Let's just have fun, eat, drink and dance. And maybe you should try to see yourself as something more than a threat to other people who might want to get to know you? Dance with you?"

She tugs at his arm and they begin to go down the stairs. Two landings below, Remus stops abruptly.

"Sirius. Does he know? About you being a time traveller?"

Remus's question is sharp, and Hermione is afraid of where it's going. She shakes her head.

_This is it. This is why it will never work out, me and Sirius. No matter what bloody time line I'm in, I'm always wrong for him. But can't I please, please, please, be allowed to live in this illusion, just a little while longer?_

"You must tell him! You'd destroy him, if you just left. You have no idea how much he's changed since you came. He adores you. He's been afraid of leaving Hogwarts, not that he's admitted it, not even to himself, but he has, and now he isn't. It's because of you. He'd do anything for you."

Hermione's blood whooshes in her ears at Remus's words.

"Of course I won't just leave. Not without explaining. How can you even think that about me, Remus? And I will tell him. Just not tonight. Can I ask you to keep my secret a little while longer?"

She can see Remus reasoning with himself. After a few seconds he nods.

"But before summer is over, Hermione. You can't keep him in the dark for longer than that. Not if you want him to be able to forgive you."

Hermione bites her lip hard to get control over her feelings.

"I promise."

Remus takes her hand and leads her down the remaining stairs. Students mingle in the Entrance hall, and quickly Hermione finds Sirius's and Marlene's dark heads. They look up at her and Remus, smiling, but in matter of seconds Sirius's face darkens. At a distance of twenty yards, Hermione sees Sirius grip Marlene around her waist, pull her towards him and kiss her hard.

"Oh, Padfoot, for fuck's sake…" she hears Remus say next to her, before the illusion she's hoped for, just a little while longer, explodes in a deafening clatter inside her.

**But why did he go and do that? Reviews and speculations are welcome...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for your support and reviews. Luida wrote a review that made my day so much brighter. Donna10Girl has beta read my chapter as ****usual, polished my language and moved around a few commas. **

**Love from Kia**

**Chapter 14.**

Marlene slips out of his grasp and hisses at him.

"What the hell did you do that for, Sirius? We'd agree to start letting go of this charade. You want it as much as I do. We don't need it anymore. We're leaving tomorrow, remember? No more sleazy McLaggen to annoy. No more Slytherin princesses to snatch you away from. Damn you! I've never felt so used."

She turns around and leaves him in a cloud of swishing, black silk.

Sirius closes his eyes and tries to find his bearings.

_Damn, that was stupid. But there was something about Hermione and Remus. They both looked guilty as hell. And they were late. They were so bloody late. Everyone else is here, has been for at least half an hour. What the hell have they've been doing?_

Someone touches his shoulder and he finds himself eye to eye with the very man he's prepared to hex into oblivion.

"Quite a show, Sirius. Care to fill us in?" Remus says lightly.

Sirius tries to keep his anger and his jealousy under control. He chances a glance at Hermione at Remus's side and he realizes he's made a fool of himself. Even worse is that he's hurt her.

"Tiberius McLaggen kept bothering Marlene. You know. He was over there," he gestures vaguely behind him, "miming some rather provocative suggestions. We're about to drop this charade after tonight, I just thought McLaggen needed to be reminded to keep calm. So he won't stalk Marlene this evening. She thinks he's merely annoying, but I think he's worse."

He's about to go on blabbering when Tiberius McLaggen approaches them from the opposite direction. Sirius holds his breath until McLaggen takes a detour and avoids them.

"Where were you? We've waited for you. I think Marlene gave up and went ahead into the Great Hall."

"Painting you pea green with envy, I see," Remus chuckles.

"What are you talking about? I'm not…"

"Yes, you are. It doesn't suit you and it's insulting to my date. But, since you ask, Hermione and I had a little chat about secrets. Apparently she has figured out, what is it James calls it, my furry little problem. You know, where most people believe I own a badly behaved rabbit, this clever witch saw straight through me. And it turns out that she plans to save my life with potion development next year, so drop that murderous glint out of your eyes and behave like a normal person, for once. Now, let's go in. Hermione, grab him, please. He looks as if he needs a guide."

With Hermione between them they enter the Great Hall. The long tables are gone and replaced with smaller ones along the walls. As Sirius suspected there is a lot of silver decorations, but less of the black, and he can't see any of the really inappropriate symbols of the class society he was raised in.

The seating arrangements must have taken forever for whoever was responsible. The round tables for eight include students from every house, with the strongest antagonists placed far apart. Consequently Tiberius McLaggen is hardly visible from where Sirius is sitting with Marlene. Remus and Hermione sit opposite them. Friends of Marlene from Hufflepuff are also seated at their table, as is Pandora Zabini from Slytherin. Sirius wonders where there is an empty gap for James and Lily and misses them both.

Marlene hardly looks at him, and he knows he will have to be sincere in his apology if he doesn't want to spoil the evening.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I know I'm not supposed to grab you like that, that we have a deal of consent when one of us really needs to show of our… eh, unavailability to other people. I just… I got really, really jealous and I overreacted. And I know we don't do that either. Using each other to make other people jealous. I'm so, so sorry Marlene. Please, believe me. After tomorrow you never need to come near me again, but I hope we'll stay friends."

And by a miracle, or his unusual admittance of guilt, Marlene turns to him with a brilliant smile and nods.

"Let's not talk more about it. And if you want to dance more dances with your pretty Hermione, who, by the way, never would do anything to make you jealous, than you want to dance with me, we should perhaps drop this pretend relationship tonight, already."

"If you wish."

"I do. But only if you promise me not to come gallivanting in like a crossed lover or overprotective brother or any such nonsense if I dance more dance with anyone else than I do with you."

"As long as it's not Tiberius."

"Oh, drop it. He's harmless. Just rather leech-like. But, no, I'd rather not spend my evening in the arms of a leech."

"Who then? Someone in particular in mind?"

Marlene nods imperceptibly straight across the table, and Sirius looks surprised at his best friend.

"Really? Oh. I had no idea. Why haven't you…?"

"Stop it. Let's not talk more about that either. Did you get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup?"

After dinner and an unusually sentimental and, Sirius suspects, improvised speech from Professor Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick conducts an orchestra with more strings than frogs. Sirius takes Marlene by the hand and leads her onto the dance floor. In a small corner of his heart he feels a bit sad when he considers that he won't be her pretend boyfriend tomorrow. They've had fun together for more than three years, and it has felt safe to, at least in the eyes of others, belong with someone. They've never kissed in private. Marlene has always been crystal clear that Sirius doesn't interest her like that, and sometimes when he's kissed her in public to get rid of one admirer or another, she has reminded him of that.

He will follow her Quidditch career closely, of course. He bets she will go far. Playing games is just her cup of tea.

They move well together. When Tiberius McLaggen suddenly appears close to them with his date, Sirius cups her cheek and then pulls a lock of her hair behind her ear. She looks at him questioningly.

"I just thought I saw a leech. Just behind you."

She smacks him softly.

"You promised."

"Not concerning him, I didn't."

_I'm good at playing games, too. This love game for instance. How will I do when it's not a game?_

"Hermione! He's all yours now."

Marlene slips out of his hands and takes Hermione's place in Remus's arms. Remus looks a little stressed, and Sirius chuckles. When they disappear into the crowd he lowers his gaze to Hermione. She stands perfectly still in the sea of dancing people, smiling up at him.

"May I?" he asks and holds out his hands. She nods and walks into his arms.

He's never seen her with her hair up. Nor in a long dress. She looks tall and grown-up. And beautiful, sexy and positively edible. Something glitters in her ears, otherwise she isn't wearing any jewelry, which he likes. Some of the girls have more bling-bling than a Christmas tree, and he hates that. It reminds him of his mother, and his female cousins. Hermione doesn't remind him of anyone, she's unique. Sirius feels as if he's holding the whole world in his hands.

"I'm sorry about earlier. With Marlene. I shouldn't have…"

"No, perhaps not, but now she's off with Remus and I'm here with you. I don't want you to talk about other girls when you're dancing with me. Just leave it."

He kisses her temple and mumbles into her hair.

"No, I'll just talk about you. You're the most beautiful girl here tonight. Remus was lucky he could dance with you once."

They dance mostly with each other all night. Sometimes they talk. Lily had sent Hermione an owl earlier. James's father is still alive, but someone is always with him, most often all three.

"It will be OK, Sirius. He will die, and it will still be OK. James and his mother will mourn, of course, and so will you, and that is the way it should be."

Sirius sighs.

"I know. I just… He's among the few people I've ever respected as a father figure. It's just hard. And unfair."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

The room is stifling. It's almost midnight, but the Great Hall is still full of people, some on the dance floor, some at the tables.

"Some air?"

She nods and follows him. In the Entrance Hall Sirius pulls her against him and kisses her tenderly.

"Not here," she whispers. "You're still, well, officially with Marlene."

He straightens up.

"Well, she's not here, is she?"

"No, but you know what I mean."

"Care for some stargazing at the battlements?"

"Love to."

The battlements are not as deserted as usual. A group of students drink elf wine and sing old Ravenclaw Quidditch fight songs. Two couples stands kissing on opposite sides of the roof. The night isn't dark enough to show the stars clearly, but Sirius doesn't mind. He wraps Hermione in his dress robes and holds her in his arms. They can just make out the Black lake in the thin dark.

"Maybe we should have gone down to the lake instead?"

"Remember the first time you showed me this?"

"Yes, your first day here. I remember thinking that I had met you before. And I remember wondering why you looked like you'd been to war. What had happened to you then, Hermione?"

She doesn't answer.

"Hermione?"

"I can't talk about it."

"Has it got something to do with this?" He strokes the scar on her arm with his fingers.

"Yes, in a way."

The singing Ravenclaws have gone inside, and Sirius notices the silence, only interrupted by the occasional hoots from the owlery. The last kissing couple shuffles inside, and he turns Hermione around to face him.

"This is our last night here. I'll leave tomorrow, after the graduation. To Godric's Hollow. To James. Will you come too?"

She shakes her head.

"I'd be intruding. I don't know his mother. Nor James, not as well as I know you."

"No, thank Merlin for that. I would have to kill him."

"You know what I mean. I'll stay here for a week, you know that. Prepare my research for next year. Then I'll come and visit. If your invitation is still open."

"Course it is. How long will you stay?"

"It depends," she answers vaguely.

"On what?"

"On how long you want me to stay."

Sirius makes an act of pretending to write something down in the palm of his hand.

"Next Friday: Hermione is coming and staying indefinitely. Clean cottage. Buy food."

She laughs.

"We'll see."

"But right now it's too dark to see properly so I need to be sure you're here by other means," he says and kisses her.

She relaxes against him and answers his kisses softly.

"You taste so good," he mutters against the skin of her neck.

"What an absolutely canine thing to say," she whispers back. "Makes me think you go around and lick people rather than look at or listen to them."

He chuckles and kisses the hollow behind her ear, relishing in her surprised gasp. Her sighs of pleasure make his head spin, and the control center in his mind lights up like a New Year's firework. Mentally he pulls the main switch to be able to just feel, rather than think.

The battlements, when empty like now, are where he feels safe, and with Hermione in his arms he shuts out the rest of the world. Her lips against his skin, her taste on his tongue. Slowly he pulls the neck-line of her dress to one side to access her shoulder. She leans against the steady wall for support and he follows her as closely as a piece of a jig-saw puzzle. Without the stone-wall behind her he would have lowered her to whatever horizontal surface he could find, and the way she presses herself against him hints that she wouldn't object. He pushes his hands into her hair and a hairpin comes off and spirals down in the dark. The vertigo that comes over him has most likely nothing to do with the height. Her response to his kisses and his touch is everything and more than his mind, both asleep and awake, has been able to conjure up. She raises her knee to his hip, and, without thinking, his hand finds its way under her dress to secure her leg a little higher. He hesitates with his fingers high on her thigh, but when she pulls him even closer with her leg, he cups her bottom. She arches back over the low stone-wall, and for a second Sirius is afraid she'll disappear into the dark nothingness. She pulls him down and kisses him with more desire than she's ever showed before. Her sighs and moans of pleasure fill his universe and he searches for the fastening at the back of her dress. When he finds it he hesitates. This is running out of control faster than he had anticipated. He hasn't planned to undress her and take her against the millennia-old battlements of the school, and he feels more ambivalent than ever. But when Hermione reaches back and pulls down the zipper herself, he can't find it in himself to argue with her. Slowly he peels down the soft fabric covering her chest and explores her pale skin above her bra with his lips, tongue and teeth. Her fingers roam his chest and find the studs to his dress shirt. Distantly he hears them tinker to the ground. The sound sobers him up enough to form a coherent thought.

"Lily's away," he mutters against the skin of her neck.

"Mm," she agrees.

"Only you in that room tonight."

"Mm."

"Unless…"

"Mm, but the stairs… You know… Enchanted to keep… eh, you out, for instance."

Sirius pulls away far enough to be able to focus on her face. She looks more edible than ever. The remaining hairpins have joined the first falling one, her lips are swollen and half-open, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hooded.

"Well, I know, but about two years ago James and I looked into that niggle and found a really handy confusion charm for constructions made of oak tree. Which that particular staircase is made of. Would you like me to show you?"

He regrets his words as soon as he's said them. She frowns and bites her lower lip.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed… I won't push you. You're just… I want you so much, but not here, against… well…"

Hermione silences him with her fingers against his lips, and straightens up from her reclining position.

"But I do too. You just surprised me. I do want you too. I'm sure you know some hidden corridors from here to the tower. I'll follow you."

She wraps his arms around his shoulders and initiates a kiss, claiming his mouth with so much desire that Sirius forgets all and every shortcut he has ever mapped out during his seven years at Hogwarts. And the Head Girl's bedroom in Gryffindor Tower seems as distant as the moon.

A sound other than Hermione's strained breaths and the rustle of fabric finds its way into his lust-muddled mind. Someone arguing. A voice he knows. Then a cry. Hermione reacts a heartbeat before him and whips her head towards the sound. At the other side of the galleries around the Viaduct Courtyard a couple is fighting, and in a matter of seconds, while his blood goes cold with fear, Sirius knows it's his date, Marlene, who is trying to fight someone off.

_But she was with Remus? Oh, damn you, Remus! You shouldn't have left her._

While cursing inside he also hears his conscience telling him, no roaring at him that Marlene is his date, and if anyone shouldn't have left her, it should have been him, their long sweetheart charade coming to an end or not.

Halfway across the east gallery he bellows for whoever is pinning Marlene down to a stone bench to stop. He just wants to get the attention from her attacker, to throw him off track and to make explicit the fact that they are not alone. It works, and Marlene's attacker loses focus long enough for her to shove her knee into his groin. It's McLaggen. Of course, it's bloody McLaggen. He rolls off Marlene and groans in pain.

Sirius's is mind is pitch black with fury, and without actually realising it, he has pulled his wand out, and he hits McLaggen with a Slicing Hex and a Stinging Hex before finishing with a Lemon juice charm for good measure and more pain. Tiberius McLaggen is a quivering, bleeding heap with his hands between his legs where Marlene has kicked him.

Distantly Sirius registers that Hermione has caught up with him and kneels in front of Marlene. He doesn't know who of them is crying, perhaps both. His mind is still fuddled with a furious hate that brings out the darkest Black blood in him. Without hesitation he raises his wand again and curses.

"Crucio."

McLaggen instantly rolls to his other side and the curse misses him. Sirius aims again, but before he can utter the curse again, his wand is painfully kicked out of his hand. Baring his teeth he whips around to face Hermione with her wand aimed at him. Her dress is hanging loosely from her shoulders and its skirt is just billowing down from her well-aimed kick. She bends to pick up his wand, without taking her aim from him.

"That's enough, Sirius. Calm down."

A sting of profanities streams from his lips, but she seems unperturbed by his foul language.

"Not worth going to Azkaban for, Sirius. Is he? Now, come here. Marlene is unharmed. He didn't… Just come here."

Feeling a bit like a normally obedient dog who got caught fighting, he shuffles over to Marlene's side, taking her familiar form into his embrace. Her body against his calms him and pulls him out of his haze of blood thirst. Dazed he watches Hermione crouch beside McLaggen and utter a spell he's never heard before.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she repeats while tracing her wand over the wounds Sirius inflicted on the already incapacitated McLaggen, seconds ago. He buries his face against Marlene's neck and mumbles what he hopes are words of comfort. He suppresses the shame he feels for reacting exactly like his father would have wanted. He could have used a tickling charm to get him off Marlene. Or a Bat-Bogey hex. It would have been what Remus had chosen, maybe even James, unless it was Lily who was attacked. He could have used his fists, but he reacted in accordance with what any member of the damned Black family would.

**Bit of a cliffhanger, I guess, but please don't send me flames again. I'll update in a week, as usual. Perhaps sooner.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A new and very long chapter for this glorious Friday. Thank you Donna10Girl for your editing and support, and Luida for your encouragement. **

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter 15**

Hermione sits on Marlene's bedside. Ravenclaw Tower is quiet. She has sent Sirius to collect her beaded handbag from Gryffindor Tower.

_So he actually got use of that confusion charm on the stairs. I thought this was going to be a good night. Should have figured I was wrong when Remus confronted me about the Time Turner and the Herbology book._

Marlene is unharmed, more or less. Her cry that caught Hermione and Sirius's attention was more of surprise and anger than fear.

"If you hadn't been there I would have hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx or some other innocuous hex. And perhaps kicked him in the balls just for making a statement he wouldn't forget," she says when Hermione heals a bruise on her shoulder and a cut on her jaw.

"I know. I'm sure you're capable of taking care of yourself. I hear you're trying for Keeper in Ireland's Kenmare Kestrels. You're more than capable."

When there is a knock on the door Hermione leaves Marlene for a few seconds. Outside is a house elf with her bag.

"Mr Black said Merry would give you this, Miss. Can Merry get Miss McKinnon anything?"

"Thank you," Hermione smiles down at the elf. "No, Miss McKinnon doesn't need anything right now. Where is Mr Black?"

"He went off, Miss. Looked really angry and ran down the stairs. Has he hurt Miss McKinnon? If he has, Merry will…"

"No, Merry. Mr Black hasn't hurt Miss McKinnon. He's not angry with her. We'll be all right now, Merry. Thank you."

_Where have you gone, Sirius? And for how long will you stay away?_

She returns to Marlene's side and empties a Dreamless Sleep potion in a glass of water. Her beaded bag is a veritable apothecary.

"Now, drink this," she says to Marlene. "Do you want me to report McLaggen? To Professor Dumbledore? Your Head of House, Professor Flitwick? Or do you want me to get Madame Pomfrey for you? He didn't… McLaggen? Did he…?"

"No. No, he was nowhere close. Damn! Sirius was right all along. I just thought he was annoying. You know, like… We used to make jokes about him, comparing him with a leech. Harmless but irritating and… you know, clingy."

The effect of the potion starts to kick in, and Hermione softly settles Marlene back against the pillows in her bed. None of the other girls in her dormitory is back from the ball yet.

"I just…" Marlene whispers.

"You just what?"

"Sirius. I think he's rather… I don't know… The way he reacted, I think he regrets it. Even though he proved me right."

"Right about what, Marlene?"

"About McLaggen. Not a leech. Less… slimy. More… to the point. Dangerous."

Hermione watches her boyfriend's date slide into a dreamless sleep. She sits with the sleeping girl for half an hour before she quietly rises and leaves. On her way out she meets a few of Marlene's friends and tells them to be quiet and let Marlene sleep.

In front of the portrait covering the entrance to Gryffindor common room, she hesitates. She's in the exact same spot as when Remus told her he knew her secret, only a few hours ago. It felt like years.

_Tonight Sirius reacted pretty much the same as when Lily and James were, will be killed. With far too much rage. Too much Black. Enough Black to send him to Azkaban. To me he is… sweet. Loving. Caring. But underneath that there is his background. His genetic heritage? Or maybe not genetic, just the better part of his life. When I knew him, before or later, he seemed controlled. Was he? Or was he just kept out of the way of situations that would have provoked him as much as… When Harry and the rest of us went to Ministry… Why, how did he find out about it? I can't see Snape going to Grimmauld Place to tell him. Snape must have contacted Dumbledore, that would have been quicker, and Dumbledore was still the leader of the Order. How did Sirius find out that Harry was in trouble? Why did he come there then? Full of fury and that bloody sense of having to protect. Did he? Did he actually keep Harry from getting killed in the Department of Mysteries, or would he have lived if he hadn't come? Would Harry?_

"Wormwood," she mutters to the portrait and with a yawn the Fat Lady swings to the right to let her in.

The common room is dimly lit. Hermione glances at the clock on the mantelpiece, and it shows a quarter past two in the morning. She is just about to climb the stairs when she sees Sirius sitting on the floor in front of the dying embers in the fireplace. Slowly she tiptoes closer. When she's right behind him he turns around.

"She's OK?"

She sits down in the couch behind him.

"Yes. It looked worse than it actually was. He never…"

"He shouldn't have touched her at all," Sirius mutters.

"No. No, you're right. He shouldn't have. But he won't do it again."

"How do you know? You healed him up before I could say Venomous Tentacula."

"Yes, I did. I healed the wounds of your Slicing Hex, but I did nothing about the Stinging Hex or that lemony thing you threw at him. What was it?"

"It's actually a spell for when you make that muggle drink, Bloody Ceasar, and run out of lemons."

"Oh."

He doesn't answer, and she thinks about what he just said. His resourcefulness and his honesty about it. A giggle bubbles inside her.

"Really?" she asks.

Finally he cranes his neck against the couch, looks at her and smiles wryly.

"Yes, really."

She can't stop the laugh that builds inside her. The unreliable and combustible heir of the House of Black using a cocktail charm to disarm, or at least, defuse his enemies.

"What?" he asks with venom.

"You," she gasps. "With a fruit spell. It's too good. I would never have thought… It was, it is just perfect… It'll sting and itch for days. Perfect. And he'll be far from his pretty self tomorrow, all puffed and scratched. His parents won't…" She collapses in a heap of giggles, and Sirius pulls her down beside him.

"I thought you were really angry with me. When you took my wand, and then went to heal that creep…"

"I was angry," she interrupts. "But most of all, I was afraid."

"Of him?"

"No, of you."

Hermione sees a streak of anger in Sirius's eyes before he turns away and faces the dying embers. Tentatively she puts her hand on his shoulder and is prepared that he'll shrug it off.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I wasn't afraid of you, but for you. If you had cursed McLaggen with the Cruciatus Curse, you could have been sent to Azkaban, regardless of what McLaggen was guilty of. You know that."

He grips her hand and pulls it to his lips. He doesn't kiss her fingertips, but merely strokes them against his lips; as if he hopes her touch will conjure up the right words there.

"Yes," he mutters. "I shouldn't have. It was unforgivable, even if I didn't hit him. The thing is… I never knew the Cruciatus Curse was an Unforgivable Curse until my fourth year here at Hogwarts. I've known about the curse since I was… I don't know… five? When I was eight I could perform it well enough."

Hermione gasps in horror.

"We were home schooled, Regulus and I. Father wrote the curriculum. He applauded well-aimed curses. On insects. Rats. Once a… a goblin. He wanted us to curse one of our house-elves, and when I refused, father cursed me instead."

"With the Cruciatus Curse?"

Sirius shrugs, then he nods once.

"It was… a nothingness of pain. Nothing exists, except the pain."

_I know._

"But afterwards I was proud of refusing to curse the elf. I've only thrown the Cruciatus Curse once before, at another person."

Hermione doesn't press him and waits in silence. She is not sure she wants to know.

"When I was sixteen I threw it back at my father when he forbade me to leave his house and go and stay with James. Then I left."

"Oh, Sirius. I never knew…"

_I never knew that when you were locked up at Grimmauld Place and hated it. I sometimes thought you exaggerated. We got rid of so many of your mother's things that Christmas, and tried to cheer you up. How could you stay there at all, having left the way you did? Having lived the way you did?_

"I know it was wrong. He, my father, just… everything I did, every choice I made, almost everything I said made him roll his eyes to let me know what a disappointment I was. But I was proud of my choices of not following in his footsteps, like Regulus did, and does. When I'm here, at Hogwarts, with James and the others, with you, I'm still proud and happy for being a Gryffindor student but… Just seeing my brother sneer from the Slytherin table, or reading a piece of news about what the Sacred Twenty-Eight are up to with the segregating bills they suggest in the Parliament, or hearing some of our professors talk about history and just breach the subject of the old class society, I feel this… anger building within me. Everything my father, and my mother for that matter, she's even worse, said or taught me is still here."

He touches the left side of his chest and makes a clawing gesture with his hand, as if he wishes to tear out his heart. Hermione puts her hand over his.

"You have a good heart, Sirius."

"How would you know? You've only known me for a few weeks."

_That's what you think._

"But I've got to know you pretty well. You belong with people like James and Remus. Good people. They bring out the good in you, and, in time, you'll be more and more convinced. Your childhood will fade, you will make your own decisions, far away from your parents."

He kisses the palm of her hand so tenderly that the memory of him aiming an Unforgivable Curse at an unarmed man begins to dissolve.

"Has your childhood faded, Hermione? You told me you have nice, normal parents. Don't you want to see them again, even if you are an adult and don't necessarily have to?"

The sudden cramp in her throat makes it impossible to speak. Her parents' blank faces are so clear in her memory she imagines she could undo her Memory Charm with a flick of her wrist.

"Maybe," she whispers. "They have another life now, on the other side of the Earth."

He doesn't press her to go on, just embraces her with one arm and pulls her close.

"That healing spell you used. What was it? I've never heard about it before."

_"__Vulnera Sanentur_. It's a healing spell for bleeding wounds."

"From Askrigg?"

Hermione shrugs.

_From you._

"I didn't learn it in school. Someone used it on me once. On a cut. Just here." She touches her left shoulder absentmindedly and remembers the instant relief she had felt when Sirius, on the first night she met him, used the spell on her. He'd taken her wand, pointed it at her and uttered a spell she'd never heard before. And she hadn't been afraid, not even for a second.

Sirius leans over her and looks at the almost invisible scar he once healed, or will come to heal. Tentatively he kisses her skin and she shivers under his touch.

"I do love James as a brother," he says. "And I'd do anything to defend Remus and Peter against those who see them as less of wizards. Remus's Lycanthropy will almost certainly hamper his career, no matter what credentials Dumbledore gives him. And Peter… He is so afraid, in many ways so weak. But he's brave too. He's done so much to help Remus to keep his secret and finish his education. It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Peter."

Hermione focuses on sitting absolutely still and not cringe when Sirius shares his trust in the man who will betray James, Lily and Sirius himself.

"And I do feel I belong with them, more than I ever did with anyone before I came to Hogwarts. But…"

Hermione senses there is something more in his heart. When he doesn't continue she softly asks:

"But what, Sirius?"

He turns to her, still keeping her close.

"Do you think I might belong with you, too?"

She gasps at the sincerity in his grey eyes.

_Yes. Yes, yes, yes._

She leans in and kisses him softly.

"I hope so."

A few students pass the common room to the dormitories. No one notices Sirius and Hermione, almost invisible in front of the couch by the dark fireplace. They don't talk and Hermione feels Sirius relaxing on the brink of sleep. She nudges him, gets up from the floor and sinks down in the couch. The empty Head Girl's bedroom will stay empty.

"Come here," she says, and he shuffles up next to her. "Incendio," she whispers to the dark fireplace, which begins to burn again. She curls up against Sirius, and he hugs her close. "Stay with me here tonight."

He doesn't answer, but stretches out his legs along the length of the couch and pulls her down beside him. With his arms around her he soon falls asleep.

_There are so many things I don't know about you, Sirius. How could I ever have thought that this… this time leap would make it possible for me to be with you? But how can I back away now? I love you far too much. And I need to stay here. A long time. Years. The thought of you, alive, young, less… damaged, was what made me leave my time. Yes, Harry too, of course, and how I somehow will save him, so he can grow up and save us all. But not you, Sirius. Harry won't be able to save you. You will die defending him instead. Now my mission is to save Harry, but my incitement is you._

With her head resting on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats, Hermione lies wide awake, watching the dancing flames.

_I threw myself into this, head over heels, because of you. But now what? Remus, in my time made it clear that I left, that I will leave, eventually. How? When? Why? How can I ever leave now? I want to belong here. I want to belong with you. But I can't change the past to keep Lily and James safe, and consequently you will run off after Peter in full Black rage and get yourself framed for Peter's betrayal. Can I stop that? Lily's sacrifice fills a purpose that will save our whole world. What purpose does your twelve years in Azkaban fill?_

Someone enters the common room and Hermione closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. Quiet steps come closer and stop right beside her. Someone touches her hair softly. When the steps begin to retreat she opens one eye and sees Remus climbing the stairs to his dormitory.

_And even if you have to go to Azkaban, do I have to leave? A younger me will still meet a young Harry on the Hogwarts Express. What do I have to return to, in my time line? The war is over. Harry doesn't need me. Neither does Ron, not really. Mum and Dad don't miss me, they don't even know about me any more. Would it be a crime to stay? Indefinitely, like you said, Sirius? If you'll have me. If I stay, I don't have to tell you, do I? About me coming from another time? I want to stay with you, in this present. I can stop you from running after Peter when that time comes. Or I can run with you and jinx Peter so he can't transform and disappear. He will be the one who goes to Azkaban, for the crime he commits._

Hermione knows her reasoning is full of holes. Perhaps Peter's actions later, when he helps to resurrect Voldemort, also serve a purpose. Or, if Peter isn't there to do it, someone else might, Lucius Malfoy for instance. And that might change the course of history. She just can't bear the thoughts of Sirius in Azkaban, or herself ever turning her Time Turner back for good.

* * *

Hermione will remember very little from the Graduation Ceremony, because she is so tired. The students sit at the back of the podium in the Great Hall where the professors and staff usually have their meals. The relatives and friends sit in rows in the larger part of the room, where the four student tables normally stands. The sea of people drifts in and out of focus for Hermione. Professor Dumbledore's voice lulls her to the brink of falling asleep. A few Dumbledoreisms find their way into her woozy mind.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

_I dwelt on this dream for years of grieving. It's not fair. I took the chance of living two months ago, and now I do. I live. Perhaps I live in a dream, but my other life has very little to offer in terms of living. Too many people have died. Too much of our world is in ruins. I've done my share of fighting the Dark side. I've fought it for seven years, and forgotten to live. Haven't had time to live. I'm staying. I don't care that Professor McGonagall sent me to a mission to return from. I'll complete my mission, but I won't return. Maybe I can write and explain, go back to my time and leave the letter and then come back here. Later. I'll deal with it later. For now, I'll stay._

"What are you thinking about?" Sirius whispers next to her. "You look as if you just zoomed out of here, and into another world. I prefer to have you here."

"Oh, nothing. I'm just happy we're here, at Graduation. Getting our degrees."

Sirius takes her hand in his and ducks down to kiss it quickly. He keeps her hand in his lap and begins to trace letters on the sensitive skin on the inside of her lower arm.

_LOVELOVELOVELOVE_

His touch hypnotises her, and she doesn't catch any more of Professor Dumbledore's speech. When Professor McGonagall takes the stand Hermione shakes herself awake. It's time for the awards. Anita Longbottom from Hufflepuff is called up to the podium and is presented with a fine edition of _Magical Water Plants of Scottish loughs_. Hermione can see so much of Neville in the young woman who eventually will become his aunt. Other students she doesn't know receive their premiums and are applauded by both the students and their families and friends.

Old Professor Merrythought shuffles towards Professor McGonagall with a thin box, no larger than the Herbology book Anita Longbottom received, tucked under her arm. But it's not a book. Professor Dumbledore rises to steady the old woman, and then he takes the stand.

"And finally the Award for Defense against the Dark Arts. There are a number of students who have received an 'Outstanding' in this subject, which is one of the most complex subjects to master. You see, to defend yourself or someone else against the Dark Arts, you need to understand the Dark Arts. You need to grasp the depth of evil, which lies within this Dark Magic. It's simply not enough to just pull up a wall of protection and aim curse after curse in the eye of the Dark. An approach like that might save your life, but it won't really harm the Dark Magic that is threatening you, because you act in fear and denial."

The atmosphere in the Great Hall has changed. Professor Dumbledore talks as if he is delivering a really important lecture, and he's got the attention of everyone in the room. Hermione can see a few people looking uncomfortable.

"It's not until you understand the depths and the evil and are prepared to face them, that you can really defend yourself and gain ground against the Dark. So, today it gives me the greatest pleasure to present the Award for an outstanding achievement in this subject to Mr Sirius Black."

Somewhere in the middle of Professor Dumbledore's speech Hermione got an inkling that it was Sirius he was talking about. She hears his gasp of surprise and feels his hand that holds her grow ice-cold in shock. He doesn't move and she nudges him. On his other side Remus joins the applause.

"Yes!" Remus says in the thunder of clapping hands. "Up you go, Padfoot! It's you he's talking about. Don't keep him waiting, he might change his mind."

Sirius scrambles to his feet. His face is pale. Hermione catches his eye, smiles and blows him an air-kiss. Some colour returns to his face and his eyes start to twinkle. When he reaches Professor Dumbledore he walks tall and with confidence. Hermione watches him shake hands with his professors and accept the box from the oldest of them. He opens the box and Hermione sees him flinch when he looks inside. Professor Dumbledore smiles and whisper something to Sirius, and Sirius looks back at his professor with an expression of utter surprise. With a little bow he turns around and returns to his seat between Remus and Hermione.

When the applause dies down and Professor Dumbledore gives room for Professor Flitwick to conduct the choir in their last number, Remus whispers urgently.

"What is it? What's in the box, Sirius?"

But Sirius just shakes his head and tucks the thin box inside his robes.

"Not now."

Again he takes Hermione's hand and squeezes it hard. His hands are warm again and his eyes shine with pride.

At the reception in the Viaduct Courtyard, Sirius and Hermione withdraw from the crowd. Remus and Peter have gone with their respective families. It feels like everyone else has family and relatives around them, and Hermione has a niggling suspicion that Sirius is going to ask her about where her, allegedly 'nice and normal', parents are on their daughter's graduation day. But he doesn't, and Hermione doesn't mention Mr and Mrs Black either. She knows Sirius met them recently in Godric's Hollow, when they came to claim some family jewellery, but she is not surprised they aren't here today. From what she understands and has learned from Sirius, most of all during the previous night, Mr and Mrs Black are not interested in their eldest son, no matter how distinguished honours his school presents him with.

Sirius throws his arms around her in a corner of the courtyard and smiles.

"Will you tell me?" she asks.

"Tell you what, love? That I'm happy the graduation is over, and that we are free to leave whenever we want? That the whole summer is ahead of us, and you'll spend it with me?" He kisses her nose.

Hermione rolls her eyes in jest.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Here." He pulls the box out of his robe and hands it to her.

"Guess."

The box weighs next to nothing. Hermione can't imagine there's even a wand inside it.

"Dumbledore told me, there at the podium, that since we've grown too tall for James's, he thought I ought to have one of my own."

Hermione understands in an instant.

"An Invisibility Cloak."

Sirius nods, opens the box and presents her with the familiar silvery sheen. Hermione feels herself tearing up. Suddenly her throat feels tight when she remembers all her nightly adventures under a similar cloak with Harry and Ron. She knows all about growing too tall to safely share it with two others.

"What is it, love? You look as if I showed you the shrunken head of your favourite house-elf. Not that I would ever…"

"No," she interrupts him. "It's a lovely gift and award, and you deserved every word Professor Dumbledore said. I just… I know someone who has a cloak like this. And it has saved his life on several occasions."

She looks out over the grounds. The Wooden Bridge, sagging already but probably held together by magic, leading to the Sundial Garden, passing a small gazebo where Hermione once sat with Viktor Krum. On the bridge itself she kept nagging Harry, in their fourth year, that he just had to figure out the Triwizard Challenge he was stuck with.

"Who is he?" Sirius mutters behind her.

"Who?"

"Your friend who has an Invisibility Cloak."

_Oh, Lord! He's jealous._

"Just a friend. At… At Askrigg," she lies.

"A friend?"

His jealousy is more irritating than flattering.

"Yes, a friend, Sirius. Who happens to be a young man. Just like Lily who is beautiful beyond words is your friend," she snaps.

A sweeping sound tells her that Sirius has just made use of his gift and wrapped them in his Invisibility Cloak. Hermione notices that it's a bit longer than Harry's and guesses they are totally vanished from other people's eyes. Sirius locks her against a pillar with his arms on both sides of her. His face is stern and he speaks quickly and urgently.

"No, love. It's not the same. You know Lily, and you know that even if I fell madly in love with her, I would never betray James like that. Or you. But I don't know anything about this friend of yours, who apparently is male, and I paint all kinds of pictures of him in my mind. I'm jealous. I know I shouldn't be. I know you wouldn't be here with me if there was someone else waiting down in England, you're not that kind of a girl, but I'm still jealous as hell. Who are you, really? Where do you come from? And how can you just waltz in here and take me prisoner? You have my heart in the palm of your hand. I act like an idiot when it comes to you. You saw me yesterday, at the ball, grabbing Marlene and kissing her, just because I thought you and Remus looked really, you know… guilty. Like you had a secret that you kept from me. And maybe you do, and it has nothing to do with me, but I can't imagine anyone being around you without wanting to…"

He captures her lips in a bruising kiss, bites her lower lip hard and tastes her mouth when she opens with a gasp of pain. He's never kissed her like this before. His raw need and honesty make Hermione's head spin, with pleasure and desire and she answers the kiss just as fiercely, clutching the front of his shirt hard enough to pull a button. Her blood roars in her ears, and helps to drown her sharp voice of reason.

_I can't keep up this lie about my life before I came. He'll catch me lying at one point or another. He'll smell my lies, and will explode in jealousy as soon as I mention any man I've ever known. He'd probably be jealous of himself if I had said that it was a man I know taught me the Vulnera Sanentur and healed that cut, all those years ago. I have to tell him. _

Sirius stops kissing her abruptly and she hears her own disappointed sigh before she can stop it. He keeps her pressed against the pillar behind her with his body, and she can feel how much he wants her. She wants him just as much. If they weren't in this public place in this vast crowd she would tell him and follow him anywhere. With his forehead against hers and sharing the air between them in ragged breaths he begins to talk again. His voice is hoarse but calmer than before. There is something in his eyes that reminds Hermione of the other, older Sirius she knew. A passion that takes her breath away. There had been a hint of that fire when she first knew him, but dulled by sadness and pain. She'd never thought his conflicting moods had anything to do with her, how could she? But now, pressed against him, under the sheerest of protections, when he bares his jealousy and desire she aches for Sirius's older self, locked in decency and the impossibility of time travelling.

"Even if you were coming down those stairs with Remus and I know better than to assume… And you'd never… I've never met anyone like you, Hermione. You can't imagine how afraid I am of losing you. If you're late for breakfast I can hardly think. And if Lily comes down alone I immediately prepare myself for the worst possible news."

"What?"

"That you've left. Back to England. Or to your family, which I really wonder where they are today. That you've gone away with McGonagall on family business. That you've gone. It's like I'm playing this game, where the stakes are raised exponentially every time I see you. If you left, while I'm in this game, you would clear me out completely."

Hermione's heart beats so hard it hurts. The deductive part of her mind puts pieces of information together.

_What hell you must have been through when you met me again, Sirius. And an even worse hell when you did, back in the Shrieking Shack. And by then you must somehow already have lost me._

"It's not a game," she whispers. "I won't leave. I won't call your stakes. Mine are just as high."

He searches her face, different emotions shadowing his features.

"Just as high," she repeats softly.

He folds her into a tight embrace and breathes into her hair. They remain still for minutes. Hermione can feel his fast heartbeats calm down.

"No game?" he whispers.

"No game."

**Nothing stops you from dropping me a review. I would really appreciate it.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for your support in the form of reviews, favorites and follows. I can't understand how a story I daydream into being, more or less, is read by so many people. It's rather humbling. As always the chapter is proofread by Donna10Girl, who has my eternal gratitude. **

**Love from Kia**

Sirius

The exhausted owl that carries news of James's father's death wipes out all celebration spirit. Still in the nice clothes from the morning the three Marauders throw their things together in more hurry than they had planned.

"Can you ask Hermione to come and teach us that Shrinking Charm she knows?" Remus asks when he finally, with much force, manages to close his trunk.

"It's just a common _Reducio_. Her specialty is the Undetectable Extension Charm for small objects to hide away almost anything."

"Is she coming, too?"

"No, Peter. Not today," Sirius answers. "Said something about respect for James's mum. Not wanting to intrude on her grief. Maybe she's right. It can't be easy to meet new people when you just lost… Oh, Merlin, is he really gone? I've known him forever. He was…"

Sirius sinks down on his bed and buries his face in his hands. Remus pats him awkwardly on his shoulder, before he also sits down.

"Yes, he was. He was the best father anyone can imagine. James was lucky to have him for as long as he did."

_The males in the Black family live forever. Some of my great grandfathers were more than a hundred when they died. My father will be around until I'm middle aged, and he will always be there, in the periphery of my life. I'll spend my life looking over my shoulder, fearing he will turn up with his dreadful code of statues, full of spite and xenophobia and locked forever in his unworldly dream of segregation and ruling other people. Damn him! I wish he were dead. Dying at least as painfully as James's dad._

They will travel with the Hogwarts Express to London, and then apparate to Godric's Hollow from there. Sirius is uneasy. He thinks of all the empty hours on the train, when he originally had planned to ask Hermione to a midnight picnic by the Black Lake. And then, after all the hours of travelling, James's home won't be the warm and welcoming constant it has been for Sirius for six years, but a house of mourning. He's never visited a house of mourning.

Hermione follows them to the railway station in Hogsmeade. There isn't much to say. Sirius wonders if Hermione knows how to act or what to say when you come to a home that suddenly is a person short and full of grief, but he can't think of a way to ask her, without sounding callous.

He wraps her in his arms and sighs.

"Just be yourself, Sirius. It's James. You've known him for years. And his mother too. Just do the washing up, or stay up late if one of them wants to talk about him. Make pots of tea. Take an interest in what the undertaker suggests. Agree with their choice of flowers for the funeral, and the spot they choose on the graveyard."

"I wish you would come, too."

"But I never met him. It wouldn't be right. I'll come on Friday, like we said. Things will be easier for James and his mum then."

"How do you know these things, Hermione? Make pots of tea and agree that white roses are pretty. Who taught you? Have you ever been where James is now?"

He feels her flinch and shift in his arms, and he knows she won't tell him the truth. Not the whole truth.

"Not really," she answers against his shoulder. "But close. I'll tell you one day."

The train whistle blows and with a heavy heart Sirius lets go of her and boards the train. He leans out of the window for as long as he can see her. She looks as if she is about to cry, and he doesn't think it's entirely to do with him going away.

_She doesn't need me half as much as I need her. I have to make her love me just as much as I love her. She'll busy herself with her research for next year, and forget that I'm gone. She'll forget to eat and sleep and be as thin as when I first met her._

_What if she stops in Askrigg on her way south next week? She has a whole life there, with friends who have known her for years. And her family. What if they turn up now, to spend time with her? It's winter in Australia, and here it's the loveliest time of the year._

_Seven days. Seven days of missing her and not go mad with jealousy. And be… be there for James. How do I do that? This whole mourning business is all new to me. Remus. Remus will be there too. And Peter. It's not entirely on me. But, Prongs… How do you cope? What does it feel like to lose someone like your dad? The emptiness you must feel… If were to lose you, I would feel as if I had lost part of myself._

"Sirius?"

Remus touches his arm and brings him back to the here and now on the train, which is well into England by now.

"Hm?"

"Where did you go? In your mind? You looked miles away. Light-years."

"Well, maybe I was. I just can't stop thinking about James. What does it feel like, Remus? And I'm not even sure I want an answer to my question."

Remus leans back against the backrest, crosses his arms over his chest and looks at Sirius with expression that makes him look a decade older than he is.

_He's so… composed. In control. I used to be that too. But this… As long as I didn't really feel, I could be just as cool. Now I'm all over the bloody place. I wasn't like this before Hermione came. I never knew this chaos of emotions leading me this way and that._

The train takes them through a summery England and arrives at King's Cross in the early evening. They find their way to The Leaky Cauldron, have a butterbeer at the bar, and then go out through the back door. Instead of knocking on the right bricks to open up the wall to Diagon Alley, they join hands.

"You do it, Remus. Or you, Peter."

"All right," says Peter.

Sirius empties his mind as well as he can and feels the familiar pressure from all directions. When his feet find solid ground again he lets go of the other two and looks around him.

The main street in Godric's Hollow is almost deserted. Some children are playing with an enchanted football opposite the church, with two dogs as audience. The dogs look like they know a much better game, involving a violent death, for the ball. Sirius wishes he could just transform into Padfoot and stay in his canine form for a week.

But when James opens the door to the two-storey house of yellow limestone, nothing is as complicated as Sirius has feared. This is his brother in everything but blood, and despite looking tired and sad, it's clear that James is glad to see him. He even laughs a little when he greets Sirius.

"Padfoot! Finally! I head about your award for 'outstanding achievement'. In Defense magic, Pads! I can't think of anyone who deserves it better."

Peter pats Sirius on his back and agrees.

"Thanks," Sirius says. "Where is Lily? And your mum?"

"They're in the kitchen. Come through, we were just about to have some supper."

May Potter stands by the stove. She smiles at her son's three friends and gestures to the laid table.

"Welcome. I'm so glad you came, I really am." She hugs each of them. When Sirius wraps the short woman in his arms he doesn't know what to say but the traditional condolence.

"I'm sorry for your loss, May."

She takes a step back and pats him on the cheek.

"I know your are, Sirius. Thank you. We are all sorry, but we need to be grateful too. When he…" She swallows and blinks a few times. "When Will was about to die, just a minute or two before he… before he stopped breathing, he got an expression of… of something I'd forgotten. I think it was the absence of pain, and that eased our pain too, didn't it James?"

"Yes," James agrees in a hoarse voice from his place at the table, next to Lily.

So, despite the absence of James's dad in a wheelchair or his ragged breaths from the room next door, the Potter House is still a warm and loving place. The supper doesn't really end, but carries on into a peaceful and nostalgic wake with shared memories and goblets of gooseberry wine from the garden.

The funeral is three days later, with guests from the village and some friends from other parts of Britain. Arthur Weasley, with his wife Molly, comes from Ottery St. Catchpole, with their five redhead sons. The two older are wild and they annihilate the enchanted football just as violently as the dogs would have done. Sirius knows that he is distantly related to Molly Weasley, but his memory of the Black Family Tapestry isn't clear enough to figure out how. Judging from her obvious joy in being a mother, he guesses they can't be related on his mother's side.

Sirius has always loved staying in the village, with James's parents or his own uncle Alphard. Godric's Hollow feels very far from 12 Grimmauld Place. It's bright and sunny, where his parent's residence in London is dark, cold and quiet. He has no intention of ever returning there, not even after his parents' death. He assumes the whole estate will go to Regulus, and this doesn't bother him. His uncle has left him gold enough to make his life comfortable enough.

The week after James's dad's death is not very different from every other holiday Sirius has spent in the village. They do, of course, talk about Will Potter, and they go through his things. There are half-finished scripts for children's books, and when Sirius suggests James should finish them, James doesn't laugh it away. But even though Will Potter is gone, there is some part of his spirit left in the home, which is now May's. Welcoming and open-minded. Free of preconceptions and the forcing of ready-formed opinions on anyone else. When Sirius asks May if Hermione can stay with her, the older woman smiles and tells him it would be a pleasure to have another young guest. Then she asks Sirius to tell her about Hermione and Sirius doesn't know where to begin, and ends up giving James's mother a rather unstructured picture of the girl he thinks about all the time.

Hermione, or her absence, is the only cloud in the sky for him. It's especially hard at night, when he crosses the street to his uncle's cottage and is alone. Remus and Peter stay with James's mother.

He tries to write to her, but throws parchment after parchment into the fire. He can't express what he feels, not in writing. He can hardly make heads or tails of his feelings in his mind. He just misses her, and somehow he thought it would be easier in Godric's Hollow, where she has never been. He is wrong, and when he is alone he has the sensation of a large black hole with extreme gravity next to him. Only Hermione would be able to vanish the pull from the darkness that is his want and desire for her.

* * *

Hermione

Five hundred miles north Hermione's least worry is missing Sirius, even though she hasn't slept a whole night without waking up missing him on the brink of tears. She picks half-heartedly at her breakfast in the sparsely populated Great Hall. Severus Snape sits with his back turned at the Slytherin table, and about fifteen other students, with extra curricular tasks or odd jobs over the summer make out little islands along the four long tables. Hermione wishes Hogwarts would keep the setting from the ball, with small tables along the walls, during the summer. She, for one, would feel less lonely then.

_If I stay? Can I stay? Does he want me to stay? What happens in that other time line, if I stay? What happens with the young me in this time line, if I stay? Will that me just cease to exist, later, in twenty years? And has this happened before, somehow? The Sirius I knew later, had known me before, but what happened then? Did I leave? Did I die?_

An owl drops a roll of parchment into her plate of buttered toast and splashes her with some pumpkin juice.

"Well, thank you," she mutters darkly and gives the owl the piece of toast that already has its footprint in the butter.

The letter is from Remus, whose handwriting is considerably easier to decipher than Sirius's, but also decisively less wanted. She knows what he has to say.

_Dear Hermione,_

_The funeral was yesterday and all went well. You shouldn't feel as if you would be intruding. May, James's mum, is happy to have you staying, but, a word of warning, she will force-feed you if you turn up in your whippet weight class._

_Have you told him yet? I don't care how, only that you will, otherwise I will. It's not right to keep your background from him, not when it's like yours. He's shared more than I ever thought possible about his background with you, apparently. Can't you see how precarious your existence is with us, when you don't even belong in this time?_

_Sirius tells me you will arrive tomorrow night. The day after tomorrow, I'll come over to his cottage, in the evening, and will start to speak freely about your time travelling. I won't try and force the true nature of your mission out of you, nor make you give promises you can't keep, but I won't keep him in the dark any longer. You don't have to tell James, Lily and Peter, unless you want to, but you'll destroy Sirius if your time travelling suddenly would snatch you back to where you belong, without him being prepared at all._

_R_

Hermione flees the Great Hall in tears.

_Belong. Don't belong. Who is to say where anyone else belongs, Remus? How dare you pressure me like this? Belong. Don't belong?_

She knows that Remus is right. When she, reluctantly, puts Sirius in the role of a time traveller in her other life, forgoing everything about him being Harry's godfather, and only sees, feels and breathes how she feels about him, how much she wants him, how much she loves him, her head spins at her own intellectual experiment. The thought that he one day would pull a Time Turner from underneath his shirt, pull the stopper and spin that hourglass, physically hurts.

She finds herself outside the Library, without really knowing how she got there. It's the same spot where her time travel landed her a little more than two months ago.

_What if I just went back? Now?_

Her fingers clutch the Time Turner through her blouse, imagining herself pulling out the stopper and…

_I don't belong here. Remus, of all people, the sanest of almost everyone I've ever met, says I don't belong. Sirius and I can never… It will always be wrong. But I must stay, for Harry. Damn it! Why me? Why not… I don't know, someone who can think clearly in Sirius's company._

She leans against the wall and slides down to a sitting position on the floor. The Library is closed and the corridor is dusky. She wishes she was in her room, alone, but her furious tears rule that out. She is angry and sad and at loss for what to do. She pulls out the Time Turner and examines it while her tears wet her face.

_Is there something in this damned thing that could just stop Time? Just stop Time at… well, when? When we sat by the Black Lake all night? Or the night of the ball? Or Graduation Day, out in the Viaduct Courtyard?_

"Miss Granger? Hermione? What ever is the matter? I thought you and Mr Snape would go through the storerooms in the Potions Department with Professor Slughorn. Did anything happen to…?"

Minerva McGonagall towers tall over her when Hermione looks up.

"We finished late last night. All orders are placed and Professor Slughorn told us to take the day off. I think he hoped Severus and I would try to get along, but…" she shrugs, "no such luck."

The older woman squats down beside her.

"Let's leave Mr Snape to himself then. But what about you, dear? Can I help you in any way? You look even more lost than when I first saw you, if that's even possible."

_Lost? Sure is. I don't belong, and thus I'm lost._

A new wave of tears makes it impossible for her to say what whirls through her mind. With a sigh Professor McGonagall strokes her hair, takes her hand and then rises.

"You can't sit here crying all day, dear. You're my goddaughter, and apart from sending you to London to get a dress, I've done very little in my godmotherly duties. Let's go to my rooms. You don't have to tell me a thing, if you don't want to, but you need a cup of strong tea and some cake."

Grateful for being told what to do, Hermione scrambles to her feet and follows the tall witch obediently. Her mind is as shadowy as the dark corridor.

"I know I said you shouldn't tell me more about the future, dear, but if there is anything at all you want to share, I'm happy to listen. Nothing you say will be repeated outside these walls, unless you want it to."

Hermione hiccups and clutches the warm cup of Lapsang souchong tea, breathing in the smoky scent.

_…__you don't even belong in this time… … snatch you back to where you belong…_

And maybe it is because of Remus harsh words she succumbs. In no particular order she spills her heart out, to the most composed and resourceful witch she knows. She is vague about the grim future that awaits Sirius, James, Lily and Peter, but as honest as she can be about her own fear of not belonging, when she wants nothing but that. When she shares the contents of Remus's letter Professor McGonagall gasps and frowns.

"How can he say that, Professor? That I don't belong? How can he be so sure?"

"Call me Minerva, please, Hermione. I'm no longer your professor, and from now on and for the next academic year you are a member of staff, under Horace's supervision."

"Minerva." Hermione tastes the name she's never used before.

"Yes, it's a horrible thing to say, and coming from Remus Lupin of all people. But you need to understand the loyalty he feels towards Sirius. And James and Peter. He doesn't know you very well yet, even though I've heard you studied really well together and that he's pleased that you will be here next year too. But saying that only shows the same kind of loyalty that Sirius has shown him for years."

"I know," Hermione sniffs. "But I want to belong. Here. I will try my hardest at this… this mission you sent me to, about Lily… about her son, but I don't want to go back after that. Even though I know what will happen. Or might happen. What will happen to the young me, in this time line? Will that girl just cease to exist in 1998? Or will I cease to exist when the younger me is born? Can there be two of me, in the same time line?"

"Well, yes, theoretically. You do of course know the first rule of time travelling, Hermione. Not to be seen. Not to be seen by yourself is of course the most important, but if you are twenty years older, very few people, probably not even your younger self would make the connection."

Hermione leans back and sighs. The older witch cuts some lemon cake.

"What is your life like in the future? Have you got any unfinished… well, business there?"

_We've just won the war. Everything needs to be rebuilt. Nothing is the same. I've done my fair share for… for everyone._

"No. Not really. Everything is in ruins, even though we won."

"But you have friends and family there? They will miss you, surely?"

"Yes, but…"

_They already miss so many. And if I go back, I would just join them in their missing. Missing Sirius. Who is dead in my time line._

"What does your heart tell you, Hermione?"

"To stay." The words come without hesitation.

"Well then. There is your answer. At least for now. Things change. No one knows what will happen…"

_Well, I do._

"… but we can't live in fear of worst case scenarios. Albus, Professor Dumbledore, has this saying, 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live'."

"I know. I've heard it so many times."

"Yes, he is particularly fond of that one, but I'd like to change it to 'It does not do to dwell on nightmares and forget to live either.' From what I've learned about you, you deserve some dreams to live, rather than nightmares."

The tears that stream down Hermione's cheeks have nothing in common with the tears that wet her blouse and the Time Turner earlier.

"Thank you. Minerva."

"Don't thank me. Time travelling is a tricky business, but so is life. We have rules for a reasons, but we can't let them rule out life."

Hermione drinks some tea to clear her throat. The other witch frowns and Hermione fears she has thought of snag that will thwart whatever her heart says.

"But I agree with Remus on one point."

"What?"

"You need to tell him. You need to tell Sirius about where… when you are from."

**Fancy a bet on whether the next chapter will be "The Truth" or "The Seduction"? Which would you prefer? And why? /Kia**


	17. Chapter 17

**And finally the next chapter. Of course I've made the plot as complicated as I possibly can regarding Hermione's conscience. Please, tell me how upset this makes you...**

**Love, Kia**

**Chapter 17**

Hermione travels by muggle British Rail and the journey takes forever. Occasionally she cringes when she thinks about how she'll tell Sirius that everything he knows about her is a lie, but it's far from the bottomless hole of precariousness she felt the previous day.

_I'll just tell him. At once. After I've told him that I'll stay indefinitely if he wants me to._

She tries to remember what Godric's Hollow looks like, and how it might look tonight, on a warm summer's evening instead of an ice-cold winter's night. She remembers the location of the church, and the Potter House on the other side of the main street. Sirius has said that his cottage is on the same side as the church, just next to the graveyard. She can't remember a house there, from when she was there with Harry, but they weren't exactly house hunting on that dreadful night. But she finds it strange that she has no recollection whatsoever about a small cottage just next to the graveyard. The moments on the graveyard were the only few in peace during her and Harry's visit to the village.

In London she stops longer than necessary at the Leaky Cauldron for a bowl of soup while she fights the butterflies inside her to keep down. Nervousness and anticipation make the butterflies perform a violent war dance. She decides to take a stroll in Diagon Alley to calm down. She even considers ordering something with alcohol in it, but changes her mind in favour of some shopping therapy.

She sees some familiar faces in Diagon Alley, mostly among the shopkeepers, but here and there someone's facial features make Hermione guess their last name. She visits Madame Malkin's and buys some summer clothes. Lily's outgrown school uniforms are by far Hermione's least worn clothes, apart from the ball dress. She's performed so many cleaning spells on her meagre wardrobe of jeans, hoodies and t-shirts from her year on the run with Harry and Ron; she fears the thin fabric will fall apart.

She changes to a white blouse, a knee-length denim skirt, a tan, suede jacket and a pair of white ballerina shoes. With several other new outfits in her magically extended handbag, she sets off back towards the Leaky Cauldron and the Apparition Point. Something makes her stop at Twilfitt and Tatting's window. It's a really upmarket clothes shop and Hermione has never been inside. The window display of fine clothes reminds her of something.

_Sirius. Christmas 1995. Not in the rags of his Azkaban prison clothes, nor in those winter wear from the Christmas he spent in the cave. This must be where he buys, or will buy his clothes. Perfectly cut, exclusive materials._

Tentatively she opens the door and is immediately greeted by a shop assistant.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"Oh. I'm just looking."

She can see that this is not good enough for the shop assistant. In this shop you apparently buy, not just look.

"For something for my boyfriend."

The butterflies inside her make triple somersaults when she defines Sirius as her boyfriend, but the shop assistant seems pleased and lets her browse.

_If I'd walked in here in my tattered jeans and with that pink hoodie, he would have thrown me out._

It's an unfamiliar experience to browse a really nice shop in new, pretty clothes. It reminds her of when her mother took her to Harvey Nichols to cheer her up the summer after…

_Damn butterflies. I doubt that assistant will let me stay if it I throw up on the floor._

She's never bought clothes for anyone before. She always got books or broom equipment for Harry and Ron. And even though there are many soft pullovers and fine cut shirts, she can't see herself buying anything like that for Sirius. It's too grown up, buying clothes for one another. She decides to leave, but when she passes the counter something catches her eye.

Silk. Ties, cravats, scarves, handkerchiefs. Plain and patterned. Patterns of clouds, brooms, cats, Ancient runes, and there…! A dark grey piece of silk with a pattern of small, black paws. Her head spins.

_"__Not really stealing, love,"_ Remus voice echoes from her memory when he caught her with the piece of silk she once took from Grimmauld Place.

"I'd like this one, please. With the paw-pattern."

"Certainly, Miss. The best quality. Will last longer than anything in cotton."

_Yes, I know._

The shop assistant puts the scarf in a fancy gift-bag for her and she pays 2 Galleons and 6 Sickles the price tag says. It's more than she just paid for her skirt, but this is not about the money. It's about following in her own footsteps from an earlier time.

_I wonder if will be just as easy with the other things I need to do. Am destined to do. For Lily. For Harry. That whatever I have to do will just suddenly be right before me._

At the Apparition point behind the Leaky Cauldron she collects her things, closes her eyes and focuses on her memory of the church in Godric's Hollow.

It's nothing like she remembers. The sun is setting, the blackbirds are singing, the lawns are green and the flowerbeds outside the houses are full of peonies, roses, hollyhocks and larkspur. Squinting in the setting sunlight she looks around her, and can immediately make out the Potter House as she's never seen it before, a large two-storey house, and, across the main street, the epitome of an English cottage, which must be Sirius's. It's a single-storey house in yellow limestone, with three windows facing the street. The entrance door must be at the back. The garden is lush, bordering on overgrown. The hollyhocks grow taller than the roof. A whiff of smoke comes from the chimney.

Maybe she should knock on the door to James's mothers house, pay her respects and introduce herself, since she has been invited to stay there, but she doesn't want to. She wants to see Sirius. Now. She pulls out the classy gift-bag from Twilfitt and Tatting's from her handbag where everything else she's brought is, and walks briskly past the church.

"Hello there. Trouble finding us?"

Remus leans over the fence around the Potter House and smiles. She is a bit irritated, remembering his harsh words in the letter he sent her. She is just about to find her ways to Sirius and tell him exactly what Remus demands of her. She's not up for another lecture about what Remus thinks she must do.

"No, not at all. How are you all? James? His mum? Do you think I can come around a little later? I want to…"

She gestures vaguely behind her and Remus chuckles.

"I know someone else who wants that too. May, James's mum, has a room prepared for you, but she'll be totally sympathetic if you don't… Well, use it."

Hermione blushes and tries to laugh it off.

"Oh. Well, see you later, then."

She turns to leave.

"Hermione," Remus says in a mush sharper voice.

Sighing she faces him again.

"Yes, Remus?"

"Will you...?"

"Tell him? Yes. Now, as soon as I see him, if you'll just stop talking and lecturing me and telling me what to do," she snaps before she can stop herself.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I realise I'm pressuring you. I just… care. About both of you. Please, don't be angry with me. And go ahead, run inside, he's been brooding and waiting all day. We almost haven't seen him. We'll see you later."

He goes inside the Potter House, leaving Hermione and her butterflies to themselves.

* * *

**Sirius**

Sirius sees her talking to Remus through the kitchen window.

_Finally! I would have been mad and grey-haired if I had to wait another hour._

He watches Remus go inside and Hermione turn to face his cottage. She has pretty, nice clothes he has never seen before. He is about to run out in the garden, when he catches her expression. She looks nervous, no, she looks terrified. In a heartbeat Sirius is ice-cold with fear.

_She's changed her mind. She doesn't want to see me, to be with me. I can't take that. I have to…_

He stays frozen to the kitchen counter, watching from his cottage, waiting for her to knock on the door and rip his heart out. The cottage is tidier than ever before. Lily said something about minimalistic, which means absolutely nothing to Sirius. He has just cleared out all the junk his uncle collected, and put the things he wants to keep in shelves, cupboards and boxes. May Potter has taught him cleaning spells he never knew existed, and then he's used them obsessively on every surface and piece of furniture in the cottage. Lily was over yesterday, asked for candelabra, and when he understood she meant candleholders, he dug out several heavy ones in silver with handles for loads of candles.

"Nice, Sirius," Lily had said and given him a bag of candles. "Put them up and light them tomorrow night. Don't ask, just do it."

Now Sirius throws a Minor Incendio with a flick of his wand. The shadowy cottage is decidedly cosier in an instant.

His acute hearing picks up her steps outside the door. She stands still for a few seconds before she knocks.

"Come in," he croaks in a voice he hardly recognises as his own. The door swings open and she stands on his threshold.

"Hello. I'm sorry I'm late." She looks around the cottage and Sirius is suddenly afraid it will seem too rustic or out-of-date. "It's absolutely lovely." She turns to him with that beautiful smile he's been trying to conjure up in his mind for the last week. Tentatively, she takes a few steps in, while he stands frozen to the kitchen counter across the room. She toes off her shoes.

"I've got you something."

She holds out a small gift bag, and at last his muscles obey his brain and he can move. She is even more beautiful than he remembered, up close. She has a light tan, and she hasn't lost any weight. With fumbling fingers he opens the bag and pulls out a silk scarf.

"For when you go biking, I thought," she mutters. "Like a bandana."

"It's beautiful, I love the print," he smiles. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There is something restless about her. A nervousness he hasn't sensed before. He decides to throw caution to the wind and wraps her tightly in his arms.

"Thank you. I mean that, it's a sweet gift. Perfect." He kisses her softly. "But the best gift is you. Here, at last. I missed you." He hears the questioning intonation in his last statement.

"I missed you, too," she answers and meets his gaze with an expression that leaves no room for anything but the absolute truth in her words.

And even though Sirius has planned millions of things to say to her, and to offer her a meal May Potter has helped him to cook, and to give her a tour of the cottage and the garden, all that flies out of the window at the sensation of feeling whole and complete with her in his arms. Hungrily he captures her lips and hears himself groan when she kisses him back with as much desire he tries to pour into his kiss.

"I need to tell you something, Sirius," she pants.

"I need you. Is it that you've changed your mind and don't want to be with me?"

"No. No, of course not. I do. I do want to be with you. I've missed you so bad I haven't been able to sleep. You've been in my dreams and in my bed and waking up alone every day has been hell."

"I know. But you're here now. Here with me in… well, my home." He makes a gesture around the room, and she has another look around. When she meets his gaze again, she looks resolved. He doesn't dare ponder what her look might mean, but takes his chances and kisses her again. His head spins when she immediately presses herself against him, pushing him back against the back of the sofa in the middle of the room. She hasn't taken the initiative like this before, but he'd be a fool to complain. He kisses his way down her long neck and feels her fingers make quick work of his shirt buttons. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders and touches him. Suddenly he is madly jealous at any man she must have touched like this before. There is a certainty in her movements that paints all kinds of disturbing mental images inside him. He pushes her suede jacket off and it falls to the floor with a clatter of keys and coins.

"Nice jacket. I'll hang it up later," he mutters.

Apparently her white blouse has buttons down her back. Quickly he turns her around and kisses the spot where her neck meets her shoulder while his fingers struggle with her buttons. When the garment hangs loosely from her shoulders he palms her stomach and slowly lets his hands slide higher to reach her breast. She leans her head back against his shoulder and makes a purring sound, which drives Sirius precariously close to his losing all restraint of what he wants to do with her. He really wants to make love to her for longer than ten minutes, but her sounds of pleasure, her closed eyes and plump, open lips makes him doubt his stamina. Her touch alone, like now, when she presses her bottom against him, makes his field of sight shrink to only see her flushed face and her breasts in his hands. He needs her now. He doesn't care about other men she might have been with, she's with him now. She turns in his embrace and meets his gaze with dark eyes. Slowly he leans down and nibbles her lower lip and again she arches back. He licks a line down her neck, while he peels off her bra, amazed how much she trusts him when she leans back in his arms. When he closes his mouth around her nipple she hiccups in pleasure and shivers. He moves his lips to her other breast and relishes in her gasps. His right hand searches for whatever keeps her skirt up. Her hands fly down to undo a button at its side and the skirt falls to the floor. In the dim candle light he strokes her long legs, her hips, flat stomach, her breast, which he can't resist kissing again, and her square but thin shoulders. Apart from the vile scar on the inside of her arm she has a fair amount of other scars, and he kisses them all, not sure how she feels about them. She shivers, even though it's warm in the room.

"Please," she whispers.

"Please what?" he whispers back against her skin.

She pulls her knee up to his hip and he catches it automatically with his hand, holding her as close as he can.

"I want you. Now. Please."

He lifts her and her legs find their way around his waist as if they belonged there. Touching as much of her as he can reach he walks to his bedroom, ducking his head under the low door-frame. There are no candles in there, only the thin summer dusk gives the room a black and white glow. Before he lowers her to the repeatedly cleaned bed he asks her a half-hearted question.

"Are you sure?"

She doesn't answer but kisses him so hard he tastes a hint of blood. He lays her down and straightens up, holding up his forefinger.

"Just a second."

He returns with one of the candelabra. He wants to see her. He needs to see her expressions while he pleasures her. Quickly he drops his linen trousers and eases down to hover over her. She shivers again and he catches a glint of uncertainty in her face.

"Are you sure?" he asks more seriously and she looks away. "Hermione, look at me. I'm sorry. I pushed you. I shouldn't…"

She silences him with his fingers against his lips and without thinking he sucks two of them into his mouth. She moans with obvious pleasure.

"It's just…" she whispers. "I've never… eh, done this before. I've never been with anyone before, like this."

The blush that colours her cheeks confirms her words. He lies down beside her.

"And you don't have to." He tries to keep his hands that crave her skin in check. It's difficult. She surprises him by sitting up and straddling him, making his good intentions even more hellish.

"But I want to," she asserts. His body reacts to hers and her movement forces Sirius think about the engine parts of his motorbike to slow down and fight his instincts. "I really, really do. With you. I just don't know how… to please you."

Slowly he sits up and cups her face.

"You have no idea how much your smile or touch alone pleases me, love. Let me please you."

Carefully he eases her down and resumes kissing her with the intention of pleasuring her slowly. Her response makes it impossible, and soon their kissing is as desperate and raw as when they were under Sirius's Invisibility Cloak and he'd just told her how utterly jealous he was. Her hands against his skin don't suggest she's never done this before, but touch spots Sirius never knew could be erogenous. He won't, he can't ask her again if she's sure this is what she wants because he's far beyond stopping exploring of her body.

Sirius feels as new to this love-making as Hermione says she is. With Roberta, and a few other girls he's just been having fun, seeking pleasure and smirking when he's pleasured his partner as well. The tug at his heart at every response or sigh Hermione makes is almost painful, he wishes he always felt as close to her as he does now. He buries his face in her hair and whispers how much he wants her. When he chooses a bolder vocabulary to tell her just exactly how much she turns him on she purrs.

He slides off her knickers and touches her softly, and her response in immediate.

_I used to be good at this. Now I'm just a mess._

But her obvious pleasure tells Sirius he's not as uncertain as his nerves tell him. She cups his face and looks up at him. There is no hesitation in her expression and she nods to him to tell him she's ready.

"Not yet," he mutters and attacks her neck with his lips, tongue and teeth, before he teases her nipples again. Throughout he touches her, more boldly and deeply.

"But…?" she whispers before her words drown in a breathy moan and Sirius can sense how close she is. When she arches back against the bed and hides her face in the pillow he pushes himself into her. Takes her, fills her, owns her.

Love and bliss.

He never knew sex could be any more. Before it's been more like a… game. Just fun. This is something different altogether. It's the sudden realisation of how strong, yet fragile, love is, and how vulnerable love makes him. The riptide of pleasure is by far stronger than he's ever felt when angry and reacted without thinking. This is so far from either thinking or restraining he couldn't even have imagined it. The velvet darkness of utter completeness and raw vulnerability claims him and transforms him.

With shaking arms he pulls her body close to his, feeling her fast heartbeats in the palm of his hand over her breast. She lies absolutely still and he blows a stream of air at her flushed face. Slowly she opens her eyes.

"I didn't know," she whispers.

"Didn't know what, love?"

"What all the fuss was about." She giggles and hides her face against his chest.

He laughs with her and strokes her naked back. After a while he feels her fidgeting slightly.

"What is it? Please tell me."

"What about you? I didn't… do anything."

He chuckles and feels her relaxing.

"Well, thank small mercies for that. That would have ended things before they began."

"Really?"

"Didn't you hear me before? Your touch alone makes me see stars. Having you here, naked, in my bed is like being among the stars. Touching you and kissing you and tasting you," he makes good on his words with actions, "is everything I've thought about since the day I met you."

There are tears in her eyes and he convinces himself they are happy tears. He's far too relaxed and satisfied to ponder any other options.

"For as long as you are here, just here in this bed, everything is perfect. I think I'll keep you here all summer."

She giggles.

"Do you think I ought to go over to Mrs Potter for tonight?"

He pulls her flush against his body.

"Absolutely not."

"But what if she expects me to…"

"She doesn't. I hinted that you wouldn't. She is a wonderful old woman. She just told me to take good care of you. Have I?"

Hermione kisses his neck softly.

"You have. I have no complaints whatsoever."

The summer night never gets completely dark, and Sirius has no idea whether they sleep at all, or spend all hours talking and exploring each other's bodies. He hates the fact that the night is so short. The blackbirds tell them soon enough that the morning is close. With Hermione in his arms, he falls asleep.

**I love reviews, I really do. And reviewers.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you all for your reviews and support, and a billion thanks to my brilliant beta Donna10Girl. I've been watching Harry Potter with my sick daughter and it only took the few seconds of Gary Oldman in HP8 for me to feel I had to reconnect with this beautiful fandom. **

**Lots of love to all of you who are following this story. Sorry about the irregular updates. Sometimes life just... happens.**

**Kia**

**Hermione**

But Hermione doesn't sleep. The dancing butterflies have turned to lead inside her.

_I should have told him. Before. I promised myself I would. I promised Remus. I tried to, but… Now it's even worse._

When Sirius rolls over on his back, still sleeping, she gets out of bed and dresses. The sun is up already, even though it's only 5 in the morning. She pulls out a long cardigan in thin wool from her new purchases.

_Gone for a walk. Will be back soon._

_H xxx_

She places the note on the coffee table before she soundlessly closes the door.

The village is still asleep. The lawns are dewy and the rising sun paints long shadows. Hermione opens the gate to the graveyard, and suddenly memories she didn't know she had flow back. Harry, trying to keep himself together in front of his parents' grave. Her own sensation of numbness when she conjured up the wreath of pale roses. Her sudden feeling of being watched and then… the old lady, smelling of death and without uttering a word, making them follow her. Almost to their own graves.

Hermione shudders in the bright, early morning. It's not really cold, but her memories are forever locked in the sub-zero temperatures of her previous Christmas. In her other time line.

_But I'm in this time line now. It hasn't happened yet. Won't happen in almost 20 years._

She realises that she can't see Sirius's cottage from the graveyard. It's hidden behind a tall hedge of white cedar.

_Did anyone live there then? After Sirius… Harry has never spoken about what he inherited, except Grimmauld Place._

She leaves the graveyard and walks out of the village. It's a small village, and after less than ten minutes she is walking along a meadow with a few oak trees. A small stream ripples close by. She sits down under one of the oak trees and ponders what to do.

_Maybe I should just feel happy. Here and now, this morning. And tell Sirius as soon as he wakes up._

And she lets he mind wander to their night together, and smiles. Even if she didn't tell him, she's more determined than ever to stay. To belong. To love Sirius for as long as he'll let her. The sound of the stream lulls her to sleep. To dreams. No nightmares.

She doesn't sleep for long and makes her way back to the village where the main street is still deserted. But someone calls to her when she passes. It's James's mother. It must be. A middle-aged woman who picks up the milk bottles outside the house Remus went into yesterday.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione leans over the low fence and politely shakes the other woman's hand.

"Yes. And you must be Mrs Potter. I'm sorry about last night, I should have…"

"Nonsense. But you are indeed an early riser. The others will be asleep for hours. Can I tempt you with some breakfast? Some scrambled eggs, perhaps?"

Hermione smiles, remembering both Remus's and Sirius's words about how Mrs Potter would try to feed her. Her stomach grumbles at the thought of food, and suddenly she feels lightheaded with hunger.

"If it's not inconvenient for you, Mrs Potter."

"Call me May, and no, not at all. I was just about to put the kettle on. Come on in."

Hermione follows the short woman into the house, which is considerably larger Sirius's. The kitchen is spacious and she takes a seat. Mrs Potter, May, busies herself by the stove, humming a little tune.

Hermione takes the proffered teacup and sips it. She watches the other woman. May is quite old to be the mother of James. Hermione guesses she must have been more than 40 when James was born. Her movements are quick though, and Hermione can't see any traces of grief in her face. When she is presented with a full English breakfast and James's mother sits down opposite her, Hermione feels she needs to pay her respects, even though she never knew her husband.

"I've heard about you loss, Mrs Po… May. I'm so sorry."

When May meets her eyes there Hermione can see her grief, but also a warm hint of calmness.

"Thank you, dear. I may not act like a grieving widow should, but truth be told, my grieving began more than ten years ago, when my husband got really ill, and we understood that he would never get better. In a way that grieving ended when he died. I miss him, but I'm glad he's no longer among us. His life was nothing but pain. For him, but also for me and James. You know, or hopefully you're too young to know… Other people's pain can be contagious. When you love them."

Hermione only nods, and doesn't really want to reflect on this new metaphor. She picks up her fork and tastes the scrambled eggs. They taste like… like food used to taste like a long time ago. Before butterflies of worry or anticipation or fear tried to force every bit she swallowed back up. She can't finish the whole plate, but eats until she feels an unfamiliar, forgotten and decidedly pleasant feeling of a full stomach.

May pours her another cup of tea and smiles amused over the teapot.

"He was happy to see you yesterday, I take it?"

Hermione nods and blushes.

"I was too," she says with a little laugh.

"I don't know you yet, but from what I can see in Sirius, you've changed him. Completely."

"I have?"

"Well, someone has, and the way the other boys tease him, it seems there hasn't been anyone else around. And he's spoken about you in a way I've never heard before. Not from him. And I couldn't be happier for him. You see, Will and I were always so worried about Sirius, when he was younger. We met him the summer after his and James's first year, and by then it was already obvious that he would never see eye to eye with…" she pulls down the corners of her mouth for a second, "his parents. They are… Well, they are from an old pure-blood family, and so are we, but they… I don't know how to put it…"

Hermione holds up her hand.

"I know. I know about them, and the way of life they… Well…"

"I just can't understand them," she older woman continues. "We met them once, I think it was after James's third year, at King's Cross. They knew who we were, of course. Will was distantly related to Sirius's father, well, we all are, we pure-blood families if you dig far enough back. But the way they spoke to him, to Sirius. I wouldn't speak like that to anyone. Will invited Sirius to stay with us for the better part of the summer, and after that he's spent more and more time with us. And now he brings you here. I take it he hasn't brought you to see his parents."

Hermione shakes her head. The possibility seems light years away.

"And I'm so happy for him. For you. It can't have been easy for him, deciding to not follow in his family's footsteps but finding his own way. And he has, with my James, and Remus and little Peter, but now, with you… It's as if he has someone to walk his own way together with."

Hermione's heart aches a little when Remus's voice echoes inside her.

_…__you don't even belong in this time… … snatch you back to where you belong…_

"Thank you for a lovely breakfast, May. And for your kind words. I will try to deserve them. Would you like me to help you with the washing up?"

May turns to the window and squints.

"No. I think you should cross the street. Someone's lit a fire in the stove there. I'm sure you can manage another cup of tea to keep him company for breakfast."

Hermione follows the other woman's gaze and sees someone moving inside the cottage. Sirius. She jumps to her feet.

"Oh! Yes. Well, thank you…"

"Just go, girl. We'll see more of each other. Am I correct in guessing that you won't really need my guest room?"

Hermione shakes her head and blushes again. James's mum ushers her out of the kitchen door.

* * *

**Sirius**

Sirius is a bit disappointed when he wakes up alone, but the note on the coffee table quells any worries that might have risen in Hermione's absence. He lights the stove and puts the kettle on. The candles from last night have melted down to solid pools of candle-grease, and he vanishes them with one of the new cleaning spells May has taught him. He places Hermione's handbag on the sofa, well aware of its vast contents. When he bends to pick up her suede jacket from the floor a few coins fall from its pockets. He collects them and sets to sort out the wizarding money from the muggle money. He likes the shape of the 50 pence muggle coin, its heptagonal shape so different from any other currency he's ever seen.

_What's her name? The muggle king? No, not king, queen. Eliza? Elizabeth? _

He examines the coin closely, shaking his head at the strange habit of the muggles to adorn their currency with pictures of people.

_Mother would like that. If no one told her it is a muggle thing. She would see it as some people are worth more than others, and like that. _

He traces his fingers along the seven corners of the coin.

_Fifty pence. Is that the same as pennies, or something else? Everything is so much easier with 17 Sickles to one Galleon. The muggles have their shillings and bobs and thruppence. Impossible. Hm, 1997. What does that stand for? Is that how many pennies or shillings there are to a pound? Or a guinea?_

Sirius picks through the other muggle coins in the small heap at the coffee table. The four-digit numbers vary. They look like… years.

_Do muggles put the year of minting on their money? How absurd. But, if these numbers are years, how come…?_

He rises quickly and goes over to the wall covered in bookshelves in the room. He searches the rows of books with an increasing feeling of uneasiness. A Wizard's Guide to Muggle Society catches his eye, and he pulls it out and starts searching the index for 'money'. The page is full of black and white pictures, where coins of varying sizes change sides every three seconds.

Elizabeth II. 1952- A set of coins in different sizes all show the number 1952. On the page before a similar set is shown under 'George VI', with numbers between 1937 and 1952.

_It is years. It must be. But that coin has 1997 imprinted on it. They do have the same calendar as we, I know that. Or maybe not the ones in Russia. Well, something with Russia… But this would mean… It would mean… Askrigg? That late in the term? And no one objected because it was Minerva Bloody McDon'tContradictMeOrElse who… Hermione, what have you done? And who exactly are you?_

Distant voices make him glance out the kitchen window. James's mum is talking to Hermione, then goes back inside her own kitchen. Hermione crosses the street, looking determined.

_Set on keep up the charade, love? And when I catch you, you'll just disappear like… A dream? A whiff of peachy soap scent?_

Shaking he sits down, not trusting himself to confront her on his feet. He'd have to grab something, anything for support, and she could knock him over with a feather. Or just a look. Or the absence of a look. An empty spot where she was seconds before.

The door opens and she enters the room. She really does, it's not something he imagines. When she sees him she flinches, but meets his eyes steadily.

"Sirius. You're awake. Good. I need to talk to you. Really talk to you."

He doesn't recognise her voice. Not completely. There is something forced about it. He tries to smile, but guesses it comes out all wrong. She takes the place at the other end of the sofa.

"It's about me. Where I was before I came to… to Hogwarts. I was… eh, at Hogwarts, but… You see…"

"In 1997, perhaps," he says in a voice that sounds alarmingly like his father's.

He's never seen her eyes so wide, so scared, or her face so pale. He pushes the small heap of coins across the table.

"Or 1982? Or perhaps this, 1974? Take your pick, go on. You have quite a large selection to choose from. If we go with this, what does it say, 1988. Yes, let's. You're from 1988 and you're from… well, let's vary your story love, Beauxbatons. And three bloody quarters Veela to blind me to the obvious holes in your story. Or not? Home schooled, perhaps? Or from…"

She sobs and his anger is quelled, or at least disturbed.

"But why, Hermione?" he asks her more calmly, and in his own voice. "Most of all, from whatever other timeline you are from, why did you come here? What do you want from me? From Remus? From all of us? What is it we know or have that you need so desperately that you had to deceive us into… well, being friends with you? Invite you here? And you're good, so good at this swindling game. I really thought you wanted to come. To me. To be with me. Now, just tell me what it is you want. If I can, I'll give it to you and you can go back to where you belong."

His eyes are burning and part of him wishes she would disappear into thin air before he loses control. Or his heart stops beating. Or, Godric forbid, someone comes knocking on the door.

"But I do," she croaks in a broken voice. "I do want to be with you. It's true, what you say, I am a time traveller, I come from 1998. On May 2 Minerva, Professor McGonagall, sent me on a mission. With this." She pulls out a long chain from underneath her blouse and holds it out for Sirius's inspection. He immediately recognises it as a Time Turner. "She was rather vague about it. She sent me here to be… eh, around for Lily. Apparently I had before. Twenty years earlier in Minerva's timeline. And Lily had said that I had… just been there for her. Three times. To save… to make sure she was safe, up to a point. And of course I went."

Sirius tries to get his mind around what she says.

"So you know Lily before? Later? Then, in the late 90s?"

Hermione shakes her head and looks pained.

"No. No, I don't. I know her son."

Sirius gasps and gives up his efforts to get a clear picture of her story. The fact that he only wants to take her into his arms and silence her with kisses clouds his mental focus.

"She has a son?"

"Yes. But you mustn't tell her. I shouldn't tell you… anything. I shouldn't even be here with you. I should keep to myself and hope I will be close enough to Lily when… something happens, and when she might need me. But it's been impossible. And I have come to believe that I might have another mission as well, which is not spoken about later. It's to do with Remus, and his Lycanthropy. Professor Slughorn said things to me, later, about the Wolfsbane Potion. Now, in this timeline, I think I might be the one who develops it into a tolerable formula. It is, in my timeline. If Remus takes it, he doesn't harm himself or others. He has a life. He isn't completely shunned from society."

She doesn't say the things Sirius is prepared to hear. She doesn't confess to having fooled them to the extent, or, more accurately, for the reasons he fears. She is honest about the Wolfsbane Potion, he can see that.

"You know what his life most probably would be like if he didn't have you, or James and Peter. Are you prepared to swear that you will always be able to be there for him, in your Padfoot shape, to distract him and support him? Wouldn't you want a better life for him?"

"Course, I do," Sirius mutters.

_She's so easy to agree with. She says all the right things._

"I'm sorry I kept this from you," she whispers. "I was going to tell you yesterday, I really was. But I had missed you. I wanted to be with you. I want to belong with you. I don't ever want to go back, even once my mission, or missions are complete. If you'll have me."

_I must focus better. I'm beginning to hear things she can't possibly say._

"Will you?"

"Will I what?" he mutters, shaking his head to clear it.

"Have me? Do you want me to stay? Indefinitely? Even though I have deceived you? I didn't want to, I was just afraid."

"Of what?"

"That you'd push me away. That you wouldn't want me if you knew I wasn't… well, from this timeline originally."

"Do you know how long you will be here? For Lily? Researching the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Years," she whispers.

"And then you'll go back?"

"Not unless you want me to."

"Unless I… what!?"

She moves fast and is suddenly next to him, really close. He feels the warmth of her skin radiate against his own.

"I'm not a Veela. Not at all. I'm a muggle born witch, a mudblood…"

"No, don't say that. Don't use that word." Without thinking he cups her face and strokes her lips with his thumb, as if to erase the word she just used about herself.

"A muggle born witch, and I've never felt completely at home in the world I lived in. I have friends I love dearly, and who love me. I've fought with them against prejudices and evil. I've done more than my share. And still I haven't really found a place or a person I've felt I belonged with. Not until… with you. I'm going out on a limb here, Sirius, because I need you to see that I never wanted to deceive you. I just…"

He waits and her skin burns against the palm of his hand.

"You just what, love?"

"I just fell in love. With you."

He ponders if the words came from her mouth or from inside his head, but her eyes speaks the same words.

"And I should have told you sooner, but I didn't and if I've ruined everything now, I have myself to blame and I will have a few horrible years with you not trusting me and not wanting…"

He ends her stream of words by putting his finger on her lips.

"Hermione. Hermione, stop. Be quiet. Listen to me." A feeling of deja-vu makes his head spin. "What you said, that you'll stay, that you want to belong. Here. With me. Is it true or is it something to make you mission easier? Please, tell me the truth."

She nods.

"It will make my mission easier if you don't hate me, but it's true. You. The very first night I met you, it was you."

Her face is wet with tears, and her voice is a strained whisper.

"But if I ask you to stay, you will? Even if your missions are complete?"

She nods again and Sirius can't remember what the rage he felt minutes before was about.

"And you won't turn this back if we have an argument about something? Don't agree on something?" He touches the Time Turner around her neck.

Without a word she pulls the chain over her head, collects it with the minuscule hourglass in her hand and gives it to him. Hesitantly he closes his hand around the gold.

"But don't you need to go back? Eventually? Minerva McGonagall will expect you to return?"

She shrugs.

He puts the Time Turner on the coffee table, next to the scattered coins.

"And you'll stay? With me?"

"Yes, if you want me to. Please Sirius, I need to know. Can you forgive me? Do you want me to stay? Can I belong here?"

He pulls her against him and laughs.

"You do, already. Belong, I mean. The first night I met you, something clicked inside me. It felt as if you, just by looking at me, had unlocked something in my heart I never knew was there."

He pulls her into his lap and leans his forehead against hers.

"I'd never been in love before, so I didn't know I was. Stay. Stay indefinitely. I love you. I said terrible things to you, because I was so afraid you'd only played with me. I'm sorry."

It's her turn to silence him with her fingers to his lips.

"No game. I told you before. No game. I love you too."

She leans in to kiss him softly.

_No game. No game. She won't leave. She's mine. No game._

**Please, drop me a line here. It's really inspiring with some written feedback. /Kia**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**As always, Donna10Girl has read this first and made my second language English better. Sorry for long between updates. I haven't forgotten or ****abandoned, I just can't find enough time to write. Reviews will always cheer me up.**

**Love from Kia.**

After a very late second breakfast, they leave Sirius's cottage to join their friends across the street. James is not as heart-broken as Hermione has feared. She's seen Harry grieving for Sirius in her memories ever since they found out about Will Potter's death, and worried over how she'd cope with a repetition of that. It had been utter agony, where Harry's grieving only had been surpassed by her own quiet and shameful one. She'd felt she had no right to mourn Sirius like she did, which had made her grief even more painful. To remember those feelings in the face of the Harry look-alike who will one day become his father is something she has dreaded.

_But James had his dad through all his childhood. Harry doesn't remember his dad. Oh, Merlin, it's James I mean. Now I have all these memories of James that Harry will never know. _

She shuts her mind to the whole mess of Sirius becoming Harry's godfather, but away, falsely accused, under Harry's first twelve years, and then only allowed two years of trying to fill James's place in Harry's life. And then dying.

"What is it, Hermione?" Remus asks when he passes her with a box that gives off a growling sound. "You look a little queasy."

"Just a little tired," she lies.

"We'll talk later. Now I need to release these Bludgers, before they break the lock." He hurries off.

"Not a nice bed in Sirius's cottage, hm?" Lily whispers beside her and makes Hermione's cheeks burn.

"Oh, hush! I just… Never mind."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm really happy for you. And he's really happy." She nods in Sirius's direction. The four young men play Quidditch in May's garden, but the broomsticks are of a junior model and make the game look both funny and dangerous. "Are you… Everything good between you?"

"What do you mean, Lily? I'm not really that comfortable with…"

"No, no. I… eh, don't really want details about… I was just worried before. Sirius was in such a foul mood before you came. Not all the time, but he kept more to his cottage than I had thought he would. He just missed you, I guess. At least he's all changed now. Oh, that looked like it hurt!"

Sirius gets up from his fall off the small broomstick and limps to pick it up. He throws them a smile and Hermione's heart melts.

_No game. He wants me here. He loves me. No game._

Hermione walks on clouds after her confession at Sirius's accusation about her time travelling. With the truth, well, part of it, out in the open she feels calmer and happier than ever. Sirius's openness with how he feels and the unmasked intensity of his declarations of love surprise her, and, even more, saddens her. The Sirius she knew, back in her other time, was as full of secrets as she has been, and even more controlled. But now, out of school and in a place far from his family, he is as easy-going and charming as Fred or George Weasley.

The memory of the previous night's love-making also gives Hermione a strong feeling of power, which both scares her and exhilarates her. She feels a blush creeping up her neck just thinking about it, but still can't stop smiling.

A little later Remus follows Hermione into the kitchen when she carries some glasses to the sink. She knows what he's going to ask and beats him to it.

"Yes, Remus. I have told him," she says with her hands in soapy warm water and her back to him.

"Oh, I'm glad. Was he… how did he…?"

"He found out before I could begin, but I've told him."

"He must have been furious."

"Well… Yes, he was, at first. But I've told him that I'll stay. Even after my missions are completed."

For once in her life she has made Remus speechless. She throws him a glance over her shoulder.

"I love him. More than I've ever loved anyone."

"Have you… eh, thought this through?"

_What do you think I've been thinking of ever since I came?_

She turns around to face him.

"Thought this through? Of course I have, and still, haven't. Do you think it's easy, that's it's a gift to know the future? To have all the answers, Remus? Even the ones you don't want? I know… I know horrible things that will happen, and I'm not allowed to change them. Not one of them. I will be here, in this time line, where you say I don't belong, and I will do good things. I will develop a potion to make it possible for you to have a life, among other things. I will apparently be around for Lily on a few occasions, because she will… need me."

Remus frowns.

"Need you? Need you how? What is going to happen to her? Why won't James or me…?"

"I can't tell you!" Hermione snaps sharply. "I can't, I mustn't and I won't. I can only tell you about now. This now. Your and James's and Lily's and Sirius's now. And Sirius wants me to stay here. Now. And I will."

She turns back to the sink and rinses the glasses. When Remus speaks again he is just behind her and she flinches.

"Then I'm glad for you. We've all fought our own personal wars growing up. Me with my… infection, Sirius with his family, Lily too; her family is as muggle as they come and doesn't accept her at all. Peter had a horrible childhood, poverty and an abusive father who made sure he was afraid of his own shadow when we started at Hogwarts. James has always been the one who kept us together and often believed more in us then we did ourselves. And now he's got to handle his grief after his father. I'm just saying… No, the reason I've been nagging you and threatening you, sorry for that, is that we are not as cool and carefree as our reputation upholds. These people are as close as family to me. And I have a slightly paranoid personality. I won't doubt you again, and I will try to manage some damage control if things don't work out as you hope and you have to leave us."

Hermione dries her hands on her jeans, turns around and throws her arms around Remus's neck. When his arms embrace her she experiences deja-vu: Remus in 1998, bleeding, war-weary and newly widowed, clinging to her in the partly destroyed library at Hogwarts.

_Your wars haven't even begun yet, Remus. You'll be the only one left in twenty years, and your survivor's guilt might very well be the thing that kills you._

Hermione shivers at the bleak memory and suppresses a sob. Remus pulls her closer and whispers that he is sorry he hasn't trusted her as he should have done.

"It's OK, Remus. I would be disappointed if you didn't scrutinise my motives from all angles. You're forgetting that I've known you before. I know you are this thorough and fiercely overprotective."

With a bang the door slams open.

"Oi! Hands off! What is going on here?"

Sirius's dark features are as furious as when he tried to curse Tiberius McLaggen.

_This man really needs some anger management._

Hermione takes a step away from Remus and laughs. After a second's hesitation Remus joins in. She takes Sirius by the hand, leads him out into the garden and around the corner to the shadowy north side of the house. She faces him with a raised eyebrow and smirks when he looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry," he mutters.

"For what?"

"For overreacting. For being jealous. For not trusting you. Or Remus."

"Can you, please, at least when we are here with no other people than your closest friends, try to control your temper? I would really, really like that. It's not attractive with all this jealousy." Hermione raises herself on her toes and kisses the side of his neck. He flinches but quickly snakes his hands around her waist. When he leans in to kiss her, she stops him with her fingers against his lips. "Because if you keep suspecting me to be with others behind your back, I won't let you kiss me at all." She unbuttons three buttons in her blouse while taking his hands away from her waist. "Or touch me."

"I do trust you," he growls. "I just… When I see Remus's hands on you, even in what I know is an innocent hug, and his hands are not under you clothes and you're talking, not kissing, my mind tells me what it feels like to hold you, and then I can't think, I just need you and I want you." He tries to cup her face, but she leans away. "Please."

She takes his hands and places them against the wall of the house on either side of her face.

"No touching. Not until you've heard me out." She reaches for his t-shirt and slides her fingers under it, stroking his skin. "No one touches me like you, Sirius, and no one ever will." She lets her nails graze his chest and he moans. She kisses his jaw, but ducks when he tries to kiss her back. "I'm not your possession, Sirius. Reacting like you do suggests I am."

"Of course you're not. Now let me…"

"No! And your way of reacting is also insulting to me. I want to be with you, Sirius. No one else. If you believe that you wouldn't have to go all mad when I interact with others. And I would really like that. Remus is an academic, like I…"

"And I'm just stupid…"

"No, you're not. You are one of the cleverest men I've ever met." She toys with the button on his jeans and he throws his head back and groans. "Now, if I let you touch me, take me back to your cottage across the road and let you do whatever you want to me, will you promise me to behave? Because your insane jealousy also implies a very poor self image."

Sirius straightens up and the look he gives her is defeated.

"And you shouldn't. You are clever and brave. You are good and righteous. You also have a hell of a background to fight, but I love you all the more for it, because I can see you fight and, most of all your victory over that background every day. You don't need to be someone else with me. I wouldn't love you as much if you were someone else." Hermione pops the button on his jeans and slides her hands inside. Sirius rests his head next to hers against the wall of the house and growls. "Did you listen to what I just said?"

He nods.

"And what is your feedback on that?"

Quick as lightening he cups her face with his hands and leans his forehead against hers.

"I need you."

He crushes his lips to hers in a searing kiss and Hermione instantly forgets why she was annoyed with him, his jealousy and his possessiveness. His tongue explores her mouth and his hands grab her bottom and grind her to him.

"Let's go across the road," he growls in her ear.

"But May made lunch…"

"Or I'll take you against this wall and I'll make you scream loud enough to bring an audience."

Sirius is already leading the way through the elderberry bushes around the Potter estate. They cross the road and the garden around his house. He slams her against the door of the cottage and unbuttons the rest of her blouse.

"Have you no idea what you are doing to me, Hermione? If anything, I'm your possession."

He pulls down her bra and bites her hard, and Hermione realises that the moaning is her own.

"Now, Miss Bossy, what do you want?"

"Unlock the door and take me inside," she pants.

"And then?" he growls. His eyes are black with desire and only a small part of Hermione's mind reminds her that she has seen glimpses of this raw need before, when she was too young, he too old and every circumstance was against even a glimmer of inappropriate affection. She gets the notion that it's up to her now to create that hellish dilemma for him later, but she can't undo it, she can't back away or even slow down.

"Take me."

* * *

Over the course of the summer Sirius's jealousy becomes less pronounced. Sometimes his devotion, love and desire scare Hermione. She feels she's in over her head. She will disobey Minerva McGonagall about returning, ever, but the forthcoming war will still come, Peter will still join the ranks of Voldemort, betray James and Lily, and Lily will die to protect her, not yet born, not even conceived, son and thus giving him the gift and strength of love that will one day destroy Voldemort himself. Sirius is more even-tempered with her, in love, young, relatively wealthy and carefree, but Hermione knows there will be no way to keep him calm and reasonable if anyone in their little group is targeted.

_Targeted? Why hide behind words? James and Lily will be murdered. Anyone with half a heart would go mad, no matter how self-disciplined he is to begin with. When it comes to this brotherly love, Sirius's is like a sea of Fiendfyre. Can I prepare him?_

But she knows it's a lost cause. Maybe she could prepare him for and convince him to let her go back to 1998, or later to leave a note. A good bye letter to Harry, Ron, Remus and others she care for, but prepare him for letting James and Lily die, after being betrayed by one of their close friends? Only a muggle robot would be able to do that.

Peter leaves them to spend time with his mother. Hermione breathes easier when he leaves, but she knows she needs to let go of, or at least hide, her disgust and even fear she feels around Peter. If she is too obvious in her true feelings for him, Sirius might start to doubt him too, and never allow Peter to become the Secret Keeper for James and Lily's whereabouts later. And it's vital that he is. It's vital that Peter betrays them, that history won't change its course, that baby Harry is blessed with the ancient gift of love stronger than life, the only magic Voldemort never will understand or respect.

When James and Sirius practice for their Auror training, Hermione and Remus discuss their next year at Hogwarts. Remus will focus on teaching the younger students basic Defence Magic, and even if Hermione also is going to teach a few classes every week, her focus will be researching the Wolfsbane Potion. She questions Remus about his experiences with different apothecaries' versions of the potion and compares their list of contents. The recipe for the potion sold by the Apothecary in Diagon Alley has more aconite than a potion Remus picked up in Edinburgh, and the side effects of the first were worse with fatigue, nausea and hallucinations.

"I really thought I was a wolf, Hermione. A starving wolf. All I felt was blood-thirst, but my body was too weak to move. It was like I was fully transformed, but without the ability to ease the utter ferociousness with running, hurting neither others nor myself. And I've never felt more thirsty for blood, anyone's blood. With the one I bought in Scotland I slept with the worst nightmares I've ever had, and somehow I knew I was asleep, but couldn't wake up."

"Oh, Remus. I can't imagine…"

"No. No, you can't. But you're trying and that's more than anyone's ever done for me. I know I can't expect Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail to be around once a month forever, and I don't. I'm prepared to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion and lock myself in, but that won't stop the development of the infection and over time the Dreamless Sleep might loose its effect. And by that time the infection will have grown stronger. The idea with the original Wolfsbane Potion is to be an inhibitor drug that will prevent the infection to spread and grow stronger. The third Potion I tried, a Wolfsbane Lily bought when she was on holiday with her family last year, in France, I think, was better than the others. Here is the bottle, there is some potion left for you to analyse."

Hermione smells it before she reads the list of contents. Root of liquorice is surprising in such a complex potion.

"Professor Dumbledore has accommodated my schedule for next year," Remus continues. "I'll teach in three-weeks periods with self-study assignments for the students during… well, you know."

Hermione nods.

"And the others have said they will try to come as often as they can. It makes me feel like a burden to them. I really need them during the full moon, and their company keeps me distracted from what the infection does to me when it peaks once a month. The fury. The blood-thirst."

"Remus, they want to come, you know that. Why beat yourself…"

"Yes, I know they want to come. They know what might happen if they aren't there to keep me in check. I would love them to come during the new moon, or during a lunar eclipse, to see me, spend time with me, not roaming the hills to try and weary the monster inside me down."

"I don't think you are being fair, Remus. Neither to yourself nor the others. You are friends, brothers almost, of course they want to support you in any way possible."

"But it's not me! Hermione, didn't you hear what I said? It's not me, it's a werewolf! Every atom of it is the opposite of me. There is nothing left of me in it when the moon light hits."

_I know. I saw you. You listened to you name seconds after your transformation. Then you tried to kill Padfoot._

"You have no idea what it is like to be someone else so completely," Remus continues, grief darkening his features to a much older man.

"No, I don't. I know of secrets, disguises, Polyjuice and pretence, but never without my own mind. Can I help you? I'll be at Hogwarts. Can I give you Dreamless Sleep and stay with you in the Shrieking Shack?"

"Are you mad? Of course not. Sirius would kill me if I even suggested it."

"I would kill you for what?" Sirius asks and flops down on the grass next to them. He is sweaty after practicing fighting with James, and his heaving chest and visible veins distract Hermione.

"She thinks she will in any way be near me during the full moon next year."

But Sirius doesn't contradict Remus with the four-letter curse Hermione expects. He wipes his forehead and sits up.

"Well, technically she might have to. She'll be working with the Wolfsbane Potion. Who do you think she'll need to test it on?"

Neither Hermione nor Remus answers. Hermione has kept that thought at the back of her head for weeks, but she knows Sirius is right. Professor Slughorn has mentioned something about applying for permission to administer the Wolfsbane she will brew on convicted werewolves in Azkaban. Hermione doesn't like the idea. How would she be able to tell if her variety of potion works with someone she doesn't know? A werewolf who welcomes the ferociousness and inhuman strength? If her potion enabled the werewolf some control without subduing the rage a new, and potentially even more dangerous, kind of werewolf could roam every full moon. Controlled and more lethal after taking her potion. She knows it has to be Remus. Or someone like him. A werewolf who hates what the infection does to him. She doubts that others in Remus position, if there are any, are easy to find. In her other time she could have conducted tests on Bill Weasley, whose infection was the mildest she's ever heard of.

Remus clears his throat.

_He must have thought about it. He must._

"Um, I guess you are right, Sirius. And of course I will be an experimental animal. Hopefully my furry little problem might change into that badly behaved rabbit James so likes to indicate. But she can't do it alone! Sorry, Hermione, I'm talking over your head like this, but you just can't."

Hermione shivers and knows that he is right. She will never again knowingly risk being face to face with a fully transformed werewolf.

"I will come to Scotland every second weekend, at least," Sirius continues and winks at Hermione. "One of those weekends will be the full moon and James and Peter will join me whenever they can. I'm getting one of those permanent Portkeys, I'll be across Britain in seconds, albeit somewhat travel-sick. Hagrid can help too."

"Hagrid?" Hermione blurts.

"Yes, the gamekeeper, you know. He's part giant and the wolves fear giants. They're too strong and their skin is too thick. And apparently they give off some smell only wolves can feel. Hagrid, however, is not open with him being part giant, tries to keep it a secret despite his mother being 21 feet tall, and tells himself the werewolves don't attack him because he's so good with animals. So we have a nine feet gamekeeper who's good with animals. At least the ones who don't fear him. Ever wondered why Hagrid's not more attacked in the Forbidden Forest than he is? He is a great friend of animals, that's absolutely true, but the more monstrous beasts in the Forest keep their distance out of fear, even though Hagrid never would do anything to harm any living creature."

"You've already thought about this, haven't you?" Remus asks and Sirius nods.

"Yep. Have you spoken to Dumbledore about keeping the Shrieking Shack inaccessible to others next year as well?"

When Remus nods Sirius begins to explain the hidden entrances to the dilapidated, allegedly haunted house to Hermione.

"I know," she says before she can stop herself. Sirius looks surprised.

"You do?"

"Yes. I've been there. Through the tunnel than begins under the Whomping Willow."

_That's where I first met you. I think you recognised me at once._

"But why? In your other time, what did you…?"

Hermione shakes her head.

"Never mind that now. I know about the Shack. I know Remus hides there during the full moon. I take it that is where he'll still be hiding when the moon is full next year. We can go there together, before the transformation, and you Remus can take whatever potion I've managed to brew. And you'll be there, Sirius?"

"Course I will. And before the end of the next academic year I will see my friend not transform into that scraggly canine. Right?"

"Let's hope so," Hermione mumbles, stretches out on the grass and closes her eyes.

Suddenly she is nervous about the task she has taken on for the next year. What if her potion proves more poisonous than the others Remus has tried? What if there are side effects? Bad side effects? Will it be safe for Sirius, if he's the only one of the Marauders who comes to stay with Remus? As if Sirius can read her thoughts she feels him lying down beside her. He mutters in her hair.

"Padfoot is quicker, smaller and smarter than the wolf. Don't worry."

She turns to him, shadows her eyes and looks into his smiling, grey gaze.

"But Padfoot won't be around forever to keep the wolf in check, if I fail."

"Why not? And besides, you won't fail."

He kisses the tip of her nose, rolls on his back and closes his eyes in the bright sunshine.

**And a review, please?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A thousand apologies. Maybe I fell into a time warp and... I don't know, but time ****definitely got away from me. All grammatical errors below are my own. Sorry for that, you lucky native English speakers.**

**Kia**

**Chapter 20**

**Hermione**

It is the last day of summer. August is stiflingly hot in the west of England. Hermione will leave for Scotland tomorrow, and longs for cooler temperatures. She can only imagine how suffocating London, where Sirius is off to, will seem. They haven't been apart for many weeks and spend their last evening together alone. When Hermione puts the last washed glass on the dish rack she realises how much she will miss their life in the cottage. It's been like playing house, but for real.

_Sometimes I feel no older than I did the very first time I boarded the Hogwarts Express. Where I met Harry and Ron. They tried to perform a spell on Scabbers to make him yellow, but failed. It was Peter. Was that why it didn't work? Can't think about that now. Not Harry, not Ron. And Peter is still good. He hasn't joined the Death Eaters yet. I've seen his arms, they're clean._

But sometimes she feels as old as Minerva McGonagall, with more experience, secrets and hidden agendas than she can control.

_I'm this Hermione now. Sirius's Hermione, Lily's friend, Remus's friend, Professor Slughorn's apprentice. I need to focus on that. The Wolfsbane Potion and keep an eye on Lily. I know when she'll get pregnant, it's bizarre. In two years she'll have a baby with black hair and green eyes._

Sirius snakes his arms around her from behind.

"What are you thinking about, love?"

His breath against her neck makes her shiver.

Unasked-for memories of Christmas 1995 flood her mind.

_I bumped into him on the couch in the library at Grimmauld Place. I could smell that out-of-doors scent of him, and some wine. I felt his breath against my face, like now. It was the day Harry had thought he was possessed, and Sirius wondered what I had said to him. Then he stretched his arm out, behind me and I felt his body heat against my skin. What was he thinking then? And then, later, I kissed him. I must have been mad. _

"Just… just you."

"Ah, I like the sound of that. Anything in particular on you mind?"

He kisses her shoulder and his hands caress her breasts. It's difficult to keep focus, but Hermione wants nothing more than to loose focus and not ponder the recollections that play in her mind. Those strange memories of Sirius that she can't share with him. Ever. She turns around in his embrace.

"Oh, Sirius, I will miss you so much," she says against the skin of his neck, and she doesn't know if she means tomorrow or when everything will go to hell in a little more than two years.

"I'll be with you in less than a week. No more sleeping in dorms now when you'll be staff, right?"

She shakes her head.

"So, where are your new rooms? I haven't asked, because I don't want to think about the end of summer, but… well, here we are, at the end of summer."

"I'm still in Gryffindor Tower. There are rooms in the attic above the common room and the students' dorms."

"I didn't know that," Sirius says, and sounds surprised.

Hermione giggles.

"Really? Wow. I thought you knew every hidden room and short-cut in the castle."

"So did I. But anyway, I'll be with you there, in your attic rooms, in five days. Where will the Portkey take me?"

Sirius has bought a permanent Portkey with two destinations, one to the Ministry's Auror training, and one to Hogwarts.

"Just outside the gates around the castle. Professor Dumbledore didn't want it inside."

"Why not? Why not in your room? In your bed?"

Hermione kisses his pouting lips and laughs.

"If you got there when I wasn't in you'd be locked in. I can assure you I will have very complicated locks and spells to keep my rooms private."

"Being a prisoner behind complicated locks and spells waiting for you sounds rather like a dream. No obligations, no deadlines to meet, just lots of time while waiting for you."

Hermione feels sweat covering her scalp and the back of her neck. Her throat hurts and her eyes burn. Sirius has just described twelve years of his future life. In Azkaban. She presses her face against his chest and inhales his scent. His warm, young, slightly sweaty scent of life. The very first time she met him, in the Shrieking Shack, he was neither warm nor young. When they passed through the tunnel on their way back to Hogwarts she'd felt his scent and thought about death.

"Well, you won't," she whispers. "You will land outside like any other visitor. Since you can't apparate within Hogwarts grounds, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would allow a commercial product of transportation to be used inside the castle."

"I know, I know. I just want to get to you very quickly on Friday evening. I will miss you too. So much. This cottage will be so empty without you." He almost crushes her against him and she welcomes his hard grip that seems to squeeze the gloom out of her. Suddenly he lets go and cups her face. His gaze is so intense it hurts. "This cottage will always seem empty without you. You will come back, right?"

"Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?"

He falters before he begins.

"Maybe you've had enough. Of this secluded village life. Of the same country walk every day. Of bird song. Of me."

"No. Sirius, don't even begin to think that. Now, listen, I will never get enough of you. This has been the best summer of my life. I love you."

She sees the doubt leave his eyes.

"I love you, too," he whispers and lifts her up on the kitchen counter. They are on exactly the same level. "I want you here always."

Hermione puts her hand to his cheek.

"I can't be here always. Unlike you, I need to earn my living. Research, then career."

"OK. I'll change my previous statement. I want you always. Not necessarily here."

Slowly he leans in and touches her lips with his. Just as slowly does she respond. Her fingers know his body so well, but still she's thrilled to run them over his chest, shoulders, arms. Her body knows his touch just as well, but her breath catches in her throat when his warm palms slide over her skin. She winds her legs hard around his hips, wanting to loose herself in feelings rather than thoughts. Sirius raises a finger to her lips.

"No, no. Slowly. Tonight we go slowly." There is a teasing look in his eyes and his lips are curved into a tantalising smirk.

Hermione shivers, and calls him on his bluff. She bites his finger against her lips and pulls it into her mouth. At the same time she uses his body as leverage and pulls herself close against him. This usually makes all and every intention of going slowly to go… fast.

His hands are quick to grip her hips and stop her before she really has the grip she wants around him.

"I said slowly. I'm not going to see you for five days. I want to remember you begging, not myself forgetting every intention I have of pleasuring you and just fuck you." He pulls his finger out of her mouth and lowers his lips to her throat. With small kisses and nibbles he makes her head spin, but when she raises her hands to touch him he locks her palms against the kitchen counter. "Sit still," he chuckles. "Let me believe in this slowly-thing a little longer. I don't want your response tonight, I just want you. Sitting still."

Hermione has never heard his commanding tone directed at her. She is unsure if she likes it, even though it thrills her. When his tongue draws patters across her collarbones she decides she likes it and relaxes. Sirius lifts his hands to support her and she keeps her hands where he held them.

"That's good," he mutters against her skin. "You will sit still and let me taste you. I can't do that when you touch me. The melt-down of the male brain. I'll take you somewhere similar if you keep still long enough."

He slowly peels off her clothes. When his eyes meet hers they are still maddeningly teasing, but when he watches her body the intensity consists of something else entirely. Fire. Desire. Love. A look she so many times has mixed up with grief from the first time she knew Sirius. She focuses on the path of his fingers against her skin to erase the memories of an altogether broken, older Sirius. His touch easily grounds her in here and now, and when he motions for her to wind his legs around him, she follows his command.

He walks to the bed with her around him. When he kisses her, slowly and thoroughly, she feels him trembling, but when she tries to get the upper hand and control their kisses he throws her on the bed. Grinningly he hovers above her.

"I said slowly. I'll tell you if that changes. Close your eyes. Relax."

He touches her as light as a feather. He kisses her in places she didn't know would make her moan. The inside of her elbow. The fold of her knee. The palms of her hands. His mouth against her breast is like an electric shock. When he closes her lips around her nipple she hears herself sob. Still maddeningly slow he kisses his way down her stomach and she tenses up in anticipation.

"I said relax," he mutters when he locks her hips down and blows on her sex. She almost panics in his unrelenting grip, but he is quick to quell any feelings apart from intense pleasure by taking her with his mouth, his tongue and his lips. Her body tries to thrust but is firmly grounded by his hands and arms, on the bed. Time stops and she hears herself moaning his name.

Suddenly he is above her again, smirking down at her.

"Was that begging, pet?"

Trying to get her breath back she can only nod, and he slowly presses himself into her. Energy she didn't know she had makes it possible for her to meet his movements, and soon she feels herself climbing that slope of anticipation again. He thrusts slowly, true to his word, and she struggles to find her voice again.

"Sirius. Please."

"Please what, love?" he growls and looks down at her.

"Faster. Take me faster."

"What happened to slowly? Didn't we agree?"

"I didn't." And quickly she pushes him off and straddles him. "You've had your slowly. Now it's my turn."

But being on top makes slowly more pleasurable and feeling powerful and in control she takes him just as slowly as he just did her.

"Hermione. Please."

"What was that?"

"Enough with slowly," he growls and she acquiesces.

Later Sirius lies behind her and asks the question she has expected for a long time.

"Did we know each other before? In your other time?"

"Yes."

"It was 20 years into the future. Or will be."

"Yes."

"But how? I guess we weren't close. Not like this." He palms her naked stomach and kisses her shoulder.

"No. But I…"

"But you what?"

"I felt… You made me feel… I wanted to, in a way."

"Really? But why didn't we...?"

"Sirius, you were almost 20 years older than I. I was a school girl."

He sighs into her hair.

"Almost 40. I can't imagine I'll be that old one day."

_That'll be how old you get. Period._

"I like school girls, ever since my first year at Hogwarts. I must have liked you."

"You can't imagine how your words are turning my memories of you into a dirty old lecher."

He laughs and tickles her.

"But you liked me," she continues. "I think you recognised me. From before. From now."

Sirius stumbles on his words before he gets them right.

"But where were you, then? They now-you, the naked-in-my-bed-you who must also have been almost 40."

"I don't know."

"But you know the future, right? You said you won't leave."

"I know. And I won't. I don't know everything that will happen. Or if it has happened before. This, I mean. You and I. I know some things, but I can't tell you. Please don't push me." She turns around to face him. "I will never knowingly leave you, Sirius."

"Except tomorrow, then. First thing."

"That's not leaving you. That's going somewhere else, to do things I need to do, want to do." She places a hand on her chest. "I will never leave you here, in my heart."

"Neither will I," he answers simply and leans in to kiss her.

Hermione doesn't sleep well. Both her sleeping and awake mind ponders what it will be like to leave the summer's bubble in Godric's Hollow. She is determined, even thrilled, to go to Hogwarts as member of staff, albeit a very junior one, and really begin to research the recipe for the Wolfsbane. She knows that Severus Snape will be able to brew it well later, and she doubts he will spend time to learn to do so now, in his apprenticeship year. She hopes that task lies on her, and somehow reaches Snape's hands.

And still she feels a deep sadness that Sirius and she won't be in the same place every day. It has been the most natural thing in the world to spend almost all time with him. And she will miss Lily, a lot. Sirius will visit often, but Lily has said she can't promise too much. There are internships at St Mungo, often scheduled during weekends, to accommodate the studies during weekdays. Lily is as ambitious as Hermione and will work as hard as she possibly can.

_But I can't be expected to follow Lily as a shadow, can I? To be there for her if something happens? I wish Minerva had been a bit clearer on __when__ I supported Lily, even if she didn't know any details._

It's already light outside when Hermione falls asleep.

Hermione suspects Professor Slughorn has spent at least half the summer holidays at Hogwarts. He has prepared two similar desks at the back of the Potions classroom. Both are well equipped with new cauldrons and plenty of reading material. Professor Slughorn shows Hermione and Severus Snape their respective shelves in the storeroom below the classroom, stocked with different ingredients. When Professor Slughorn leaves them to collect the Owl Post Hermione makes an attempt to talk to the young man she will work side by side with for the next year.

"What are you going to work with, pr… Severus?"

He is quiet for so long Hermione thinks he won't answer her at all, just look at her with his dark eyes, which reveal next to nothing. But, then again, this is Severus Snape, the man with the most eloquent pausing she has ever met. She remembers when Umbridge was on the war-path at Hogwarts, trying to humiliate and intimidate all members of staff, and questioned Professor Snape during a class. The pausing before he even began answering her questions was more suggestive than his actual words, which were uttered with the most bored disdain. He was the only teacher that didn't seem disturbed by Umbridge's rise to power. He didn't even seem to care.

"I am developing a salve to use on slashing cuts. There is a counter spell, but very few people seem able to get the incantation of it right, and thus causing unnecessary scarring."

"Oh. For wounds made with a Slicing Hex, for instance?"

Hermione is a little surprised by Snape's seemingly benign project. She wonders if he perhaps harbours hidden ambitions to become a healer at St Mungo's, but nothing in what she knows about him indicates that he was ever interested in magical medicine.

He lifts the corner of his mouth in the bleak imitation of a smile. If he hadn't been the master of silences speaking for themselves, Hermione would have expected a snarl to go with his expression.

"No. Any idiot can patch up a Slicing Hex, Miss Granger. I'm working on merging the counter curse into the salve itself. For decisively more severe wounds."

His patronising tone has already set Hermione's teeth on edge. And she will definitely not call him Mr Snape for the whole academic year.

"I see, Severus. For curses like _Sectumsempra_ and cuts with knives cursed with Ever-Bleeding, then. Very commendable. And call me Hermione."

His eyes widen in surprise. _Sectumsempra_ is his own invention, and Hermione knows this. Harry found it in the old Potions textbook he borrowed in sixth year. It wasn't until later, after Snape had killed Professor Dumbledore, and they all thought that he finally had shown his true colours, that Harry found out that the Half-blood Prince's book had been Snape's, and thus making it far more useful, albeit sinister, than a new book without added notes in would have been. Hermione guesses the curse that works like an invisible sword is no more than two or three years now, if it is true that Snape himself invented it. She doesn't think it is below him to find it in an older, rare book of curses, try it out and pull it off like his own.

"Yes," he answers flatly. "I didn't know you were that familiar with that kind of Dark Magic, Mi… Hermione. A particular kind of interest for someone like you."

"What do you mean, Severus?"

She expects some bigoted hidden meaning, but she can't put her finger to it.

"Excuse me. I spoke to quickly. Perhaps bleeding wounds is exactly in your line of interest. Professor Slughorn has told me that you are working on the lost potion formula of Damocles's Wolfsbane. I will assure you that my salve, or more concentrated, in essence form, will cover up less successful attempts of taming the madness within your furry little friend, Remus Lupin. Oh, yes I know. Thanks to Black it was almost the last thing I ever knew."

Severus spits out Sirius's last name with venom.

"My initial studies promise better result than dittany mixed with silver," he continues.

_This is the man who loved, loves Lily more than anything. Maybe even more than James does. He put up with the scorn of almost everyone for years after Lily's death, he became a double spy mostly to honour her memory. His patronus mirrors hers. And he is talented. Both in Potions and inventing curses and spells. I must listen beyond that annoying drawl. He can't have a personal grudge against me yet, we don't even know each other. Unless he despises me by default, being muggle born and involved with Sirius._

"Really? But the silver represses the infection, doesn't it? Prevents it from spreading the infection at its normal speed."

"It does," he agrees.

There is a glint of warmth in his eyes now. Perhaps he will be able to work side by side with her, even respect her, if she shows him she can match him academically.

"It does," he repeats, "but the incantation _Vulnera Sanentur_ not only eases the blood flow and closes the wound, it also cleans the wound of residues. Dirt. Lingering curses."

"I didn't know that," Hermione lies. "Thank you. But how can it help with werewolf bites? The infection enters the victim's bloodstream as soon as he or she is bitten."

"Yes, I know that's the theory. But, as I said, my initial studies are promising, even in the field of blood infections. Given a whole academic year, I'm positive I'll get results that will change the way we see magical wounds and their risks."

"Good luck, Severus. I really hope you are right. And if you want to discuss your findings, I'm all ears."

"Thank you. And I wish you luck with your endeavour. Control of the werewolf population would make us all safer."

"Hm. Yes. Well, my starting point is actually those who want an inhibitor potion. Research is no way near a cure, yet. The majority prefers, unfortunately, to live outside our society and welcomes their monthly transformations."

"But with a strong Ministry they might not be able to shun normal society, but have to submit to treatment. And be normal, working, contributing wizards for three out of four weeks."

_Godric, how confusing! I hear the-strong-Ministry-view I can imagine him hoping for now when Voldemort is on his first rise to power, but his view on the werevolves as not quite lost hope is something I never thought I'd hear from him._

"Yes, Severus. Maybe."

"I have some reading to do. Excuse me. I'll see you at dinner."

"All right."

He turns around and leaves. As is his habit later, Severus is all dressed in black, even though his cloak doesn't billow quite as bat-like as when Hermione first met him.

_Maybe we'll actually get along. But judging from how he treated me when he met me as his student, it won't end well._

During the week Hermione analyses the sediment of the Wolfsbane Potion in the three different vials Remus has left her. She also interviews him in depth about what he remembers from the occasions he took them. At the end of the week she has several ideas for which ingredients are vital for the potion, and a few ingredients she suspects are counterproductive in the calming, anti-transforming drug she hopes to develop. The root of liquorice does, admittedly, give the potion a strong kick, but its blood pressure increasing qualities might also increase thirst, anger and inhuman strength.

In the evenings she spends time with Remus, but both of them have a lot of reading to do. Mostly they sit in companionable silence in front of the fire in the staff's lounge, taking turns to fill each other's teacups. Severus disappears after dinner every evening, and even though Hermione wants to invite him to study with her and Remus, she is uncertain the silence would be as companionable if he were to accept. Instead she lingers in the Potions classroom before dinner to ask Severus about his research, and, on the few occasions he asks her about her findings and ideas she tries to be honest and open.

She doesn't go up to her room until late, and never before Remus. He has rooms across the hall in the attic above Gryffindor common room and students' dorms. She doesn't want to enter her empty room, with its empty bed until she is so tired her vision is blurred. She doesn't write to Sirius, because she can't find any other words than "I miss you" and just writing them brings tears to her eyes. As long as she is in her research role, in the Potions classroom, in the Great Hall for meals at the small table for junior staff, or reading in the staff's lounge she is focused on her work, but when she leaves that behind when she brushes her teeth at night, she feels as lonely as during the summer after Sirius died.

She can't let that happen again. She won't change anything in the past, but she will not leave it either. When the time comes for Peter to betray Lily and James and leave Harry an orphan, she will stop Sirius from going to Godric's Hollow in a daze of hate, revenge, loss and his usual recklessness. She will stun him if necessary. He might never forgive her for keeping the death of James and Lily a secret, but he will come to see that that sacrifice will eventually be the only thing that can bring down Voldemort. The ancient magic of love and of sacrifice.

**I'm editing the next chapter for publishing. Perhaps a little thumbs-up, some positive feedback or some love in general could make me edit faster? Please? I've been away from writing this story for so long, I'm afraid I'm loosing focus or momentum.**

**Love from Kia **


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing when I updated a couple of days ago. I'm amazed that you haven't forgotten me after my loooong break from writing.**

**In the following chapter both James Potter and Severus Snape have a few things to say. Really fun to try their voices. I've tried to keep them in character as I picture them in a ****scenario like the one I've painted here. Please let me know if you think their voices ring somewhat true. Severus will have even more to say in the chapter after this.**

**Chapter 21**

**Sirius**

Sirius is going through all levels of hell, or at least that is what it feels like. He is unfocused during James's and his first week of Auror training. He can see the instructor looking at him with a sceptical expression, and for an hour or two he tries, he really does. He knows that the reputation his last name entails makes him an unlikely Law Enforcement cadet, and he hates himself for not being able to rise above it and prove himself everything a member of the Black family never has even aspired to.

"Padfoot, for fuck's sake, pull yourself together," James hisses during lunch break. "They'll throw you out before Christmas unless you show them that you actually belong here. We were doing Disarming Charms, not Transfiguration with living objects. And you behaved as if your wand was made of lead. Or belonged to someone else completely."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just miss summer. Her. I can't think straight without her around."

"You can't think straight when you are with her either. Nothing new there. Your mind has never worked like other people's, but you have been set on becoming an Auror since we were in our fifth year. I know you don't have to earn a living, like the rest of us, you filthy rich prat, but this is what you want. Think of the Sacred Twenty-Eight in Parliament and the bills they propose, the candidates for Minister for Magic they support. The newest one, Tom Marvolo, for instance. He's all simple background and working class, but the 28 treat him like royalty. There must me something wrong with him."

Sirius snaps out of his self-pity.

"Marvolo? I've heard about him…"

"Well, he's all over the news lately, and…"

"No. Not there. I just read the sport pages in the Prophet, anyway. No, I've heard about him somewhere else. Where?"

"At your parent's place?"

Sirius squints.

"I don't think so. I haven't been to Grimmaulds Place in four years, and I made a point of not listening to anything they said anyway. No, somewhere else."

"Hogwarts then?" James suggests.

Sirius nods.

"Yes. Probably. But I can't remember… Wait."

"Slughorn? Filch? Snivellus? Crouch? Avery?"

"No, not in a Slytherin context. I think it was Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes. Yes, now I remember. It was before Christmas, when I was ordered to go and see Dumbledore for that prank I pulled on McLaggen, making his ears stick out. The gargoyles let me up those sickening moving staircase, but I was told to wait outside the door. Dumbledore was talking to McGonagall about him, Marvolo. He was a student at Hogwarts, some 30 years ago. I got the feeling something happened around him then. They said things like "as we know he is capable of" and "the thing he has with animals, but nothing like Rubeus Hagrid" and "we can't let him gain influence."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was mostly worried I would have to apologise to McLaggen, as means of punishment, but especially McGonagall was really freaked out."

"Nah. Not McDontContradictMe. Old Albus might be all jittery on occasion, but not Your Scottish McMajesty."

"But she was, James. I've never heard that tone in her voice before. Fear. Uncertainty."

James drops his mocking charade.

"Then you really need to shape up here, Sirius. If Minerva McGonagall knows something about this Marvolo guy and considers him a threat, you of all people need to join the ranks of the Aurors. Understand the depths of evil rather than just aiming curse after curse as protection, or whatever Dumbledore said when he gave his little "I turn dark wizards light" speech at Graduation."

"You weren't even there."

"Remus told me. And both he and I think that we should have been mentioned too."

"What for?"

"For reforming you."

"Shut it. Let's practice some disarming."

"Want me to close my eyes and use my left hand to give you a chance?"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Hey! Not fair!"

_Not fair._

No, Sirius doesn't think it's fair. He doesn't like the consultant-of-the-dark-arts role the others, those who trust him, have cast him in. And there was something about Dumbledore before the end of term, just before he, Remus and Peter left for Godric's Hollow. As if Dumbledore wanted to confide in him, ask something of him, and then thought better of it and just wished them a lovely summer.

_As if I have to prove myself first._

Sirius has heard rumours about Dumbledore being all paranoid and forming some kind of secret dissident group. James would laugh if off, but Sirius is not so sure it's just another of Dumbledore's whims. The leadership of magical Britain is still elected by vote, not taken by force, but if Dumbledore can sense something not quite right with where the Parliament is heading, Sirius is the first to believe him. Dumbledore is right about many things that are opposed to popular opinion.

_He was right about me._

Eight years earlier, when Sirius, slightly shell-shocked, ended up at the Gryffindor table on his first evening at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had walked by, placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered:

"The Black I've been waiting for. Welcome."

During Sirius's years at Hogwarts he has been in the headmaster's office many times, being told off for yet another prank that had seemed like a good idea at the time. A few times Dumbledore has delivered his scolding like something he's been repeating by rote, rather than real anger or indignation. Those occasions also included some well-phrased Dumbledorisms.

_"__I can see that you can't just cast it off, but Sirius, my boy, why not try and use the anger inside you constructively."_

_"__Didn't you make your choice when you came here?" _

_"__I can't tell you I know what having a family like yours is like, but for the love of Rowena's lost diadem, you are better than that. Stronger. Kinder."_

_What did he mean? What does he expect of me? Am I just a feather in his hat for not following in the footsteps of my father?_

But tomorrow is Friday and the strategic plotting of Dumbledore vanishes at the thought of Hermione.

* * *

When Sirius finds his footing outside the gates around Hogwarts he sees a figure through the bars. Slightly disappointed he recognises Remus.

"Not happy to see me, Sirius?"

"Of course, I am. I just…"

"And I just wonder if I can use your portkey back to London. James asked me to a Quidditch match down in Kent. Grodzisk Goblins against Appelby Arrows."

"The Poles? Why would you want to go and see a team of Poles get beaten by the Apples?"

"You would too, if your mind weren't full of naughty thoughts. You're a bigger Quidditch fan than I, but, to tell you the truth, I think I'd rather not stay here and try speak to either you or Hermione."

"Why? Is something wrong? Why isn't she here to meet…"

Remus laughs.

"No, nothing is wrong. Just listen to yourself. What I mean is that you can't even talk to me for a minute before you ask about Hermione. And she's no better. All absent-minded since lunch. So, can I?"

"What?"

"The portkey?"

"Sure. Come back Sunday."

Sirius throws the unassuming pair of binoculars in Remus's direction. When Remus catches them he disappears.

* * *

Sirius is amazed that Hermione leads him through parts of Hogwarts he's never seen before. He really thought that no student had seen more of hidden corridors and secret rooms than he. On the other hand he isn't a student any more, and neither is Hermione. None of them dwell to admire the paintings on the walls, though.

Hermione's room reminds him of something, but he can't remember what, and he doesn't care.

"You have to come to London," he murmurs against her skin when he has her pinned against the door to her room. "I can't focus in Auror class. I make the worst mistakes, and they'll kick me out. My mind is full of you, there is no room for new information about disguising spells and whatnots."

She laughs shakily.

"So, tell me exactly what I do in your mind," she whispers.

"Well, I have you pinned against a door, like this, and you don't mind…"

"I don't."

"In fact, you seem to like it.

Hermione raises her left leg and winds it around Sirius's hip.

"And you bend your head back so I can kiss your neck, like this. And then you are quite passive while I unbutton your shirt."

When Sirius's fingers touch her skin behind the undone buttons Hermione shivers and gasps. His overactive imagination had forgotten about those sounds and he stops trying to choreograph their reunion. He kisses her hungrily and hoists her up around his hips to take her to the bed, or the couch, or a reasonably thick carpet, whatever's closest.

"No," she pants when he takes a step. "I kind of like the idea of this door."

Quickly Sirius wards the door with a silencing spell, before he lets his nightly painfully longing dreams dictate their lovemaking.

It's not until they go down for dinner that they can string together sentences that are appropriate for others to hear. Hermione tells Sirius that she has made progress with the Wolfsbane Potion and that Remus has agreed to try it during the next full moon, two weeks away.

"It's not a cure, it's not even a prohibitor drug. At best, it's a sedative that works despite the active infection. A normal sedative, one that would knock out Remus for days, is useless during the full moon."

"I know," Sirius mutters grimly. "We've tried it, James, Peter and I. It was the time when…"

He trails off but touches the left side of his chest. Hermione grimaces; she has seen the scar.

"Who healed it?" she asks.

"What?"

She lowers her gaze from his eyes to his chest.

"Oh. Pomfrey. She kind of sang this weird incantation."

" The _Vulnera Sanentur_?"

"Um. Perhaps that's what it called. And poured loads of silver solution onto it. But it wasn't… He didn't… Remus didn't bite me. He used his claws."

Sirius's last words are a whisper and he is suddenly pale.

"Do you still want to be here when Remus tries my sedative? You don't have to. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn have offered one of the dungeons and taking turns with a Full Body-Bind Curse."

"Are you mad?" Sirius memory of the fear he felt when the Werewolf in Remus suddenly turned on him, is wiped away, and he is angry. "Would I let my best friend…"

"Remus thinks it's a good idea, too," Hermione interrupts. "And he isn't your best friend during the full moon. He is a Werewolf. He hates himself for it, hates the monster inside him, and he is adamant that the wolf and the man are two different beings. He is actually…"

Hermione stops abruptly.

"What?"

She shakes her head.

"Tell me, please. He is actually what?"

"He told me in confidence. I shouldn't…"

"Is there a chance it will help him in any way if you tell me? If so, do."

Sirius is suddenly jealous. His jealousy isn't as much of a monster inside him as the wolf is in Remus, but close enough. What has Remus confided in Hermione that he hasn't told Sirius? All kinds of pictures of hushed and secluded conversations between Remus and Hermione play in his head. Conversations abruptly interrupted when Sirius enters the room. He feels her hand on his cheek and focuses on her concerned face.

"No, Sirius. Don't go there in your mind. What Remus told me is this. He hates that now, after your Hogwarts years, you and James and Peter prioritise to come here, to him, when he isn't Remus, but the wolf. He just misses the time you spent together the other 28 days of the month, when he was himself."

"Oh. I see. Of course. Fuck, this is so hard, so unfair. Of course I want to spend time with Remus when he's himself, but I also want to be with you, and I need to be in London, and when…"

"I know. And Remus knows, too. It's just the way it is. Hopefully I will make progress with the potion. Professor Slughorn supports me. He's more interested than I thought he would be."

Sirius nods and looks slightly doubtful.

* * *

**Four months later**

**Hermione**

But Hermione does make progress. Days after the New Year the potion she and Professor Slughorn have brewed makes it possible for Remus to resist the raving blood-thirst most of the night of the full moon. Professor Slughorn is with them in the Shrieking Shack and keeps his wand trained at Remus all night. Sometimes he has to use it to restrict the Werewolf, but there are no accidents.

Sirius, James and Peter are all there, in their Animagus forms. So is Hermione and even though she admits that the potion has effect, the look in the Werewolf's golden eyes makes her want to run back to the Potions classroom and work without sleep of food until she has perfected the formula. The transformation has before always been physically total, and there has been nothing of Remus in the Werewolf. Albeit very groggy the glint in the golden eyes has, before, been malicious, without a hint of Remus's warmth and calm. There is neither warmth nor calm there now, but agony when the man and the wolf do battle inside the same body.

And even so, Remus is grateful the next morning. His aching, strained muscles, and his bruised and bloody gums where the Werewolf's fangs have drawn his own blood make it difficult for him to speak, let alone move. His three Marauder friends, Hermione and Professor Slughorn stand around his bed in his room.

"Thank you, Hermione. I've never remembered a full moon before. Last night was hell, but I was there at least. It's much more hellish to come to and not know what you've done."

Professor Slughorn beams with pride when he turns to Hermione.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger. I dare say we are following in Damocles's footsteps even though we set out with neither map nor compass. You really are the most talented witch of your age."

"Indeed," Sirius concurs and hugs her to him. "What would we do without you?"

* * *

But two months later it's Severus Snape they can't do without. Sirius, James, Professor Slughorn, Hermione and Lily are all present when Remus drinks yet another new potion, based on all the previous ones. They are in one of the dungeons, since the sub-zero temperatures would make a night in the Shrieking Shack seem endless. The Marauders are not in their Animagus forms. The new potion seems to work even better, even the physical transformation seems less pronounced than before. The potion gives off a spicy, almost peppery smell, not unpleasant, just strong, and it makes Professor Slughorn sneeze.

Then it happens so fast. The chubby professor sneezes, drops his wand and when he bends to pick it up the Werewolf lunges towards him, shoulders him out of the way and attacks Lily and Hermione. The next second the Werewolf is on his back with Sirius's wand trained at him, stupefied, body-bound and wrapped in steel wire Hermione has no idea from where or with what Sirius has conjured up. The Werewolf is in obvious pain, and it is Remus's amber, haunted eyes that convey it to them all.

Hermione's heart beats so fast and hard she thinks the Werewolf must have clawed her ribcage open, but when she looks down on herself she can't see any blood. A pained cry behind her makes her whip around. Lily in on the floor, bent double in a pool of blood.

"Lily!" James roars and crashes to his knees beside her. "No!" He turns to the incapacitated Werewolf. "I'll kill you, you monster. You absolute…."

"James! Don't." Hermione shakes him. "Now is not… Lily's more important now."

James takes Lily in his arms, stunned and out of words. In the corner of her eye she sees Sirius, immobile and with his want steadily pointed at the Werewolf.

"Lily, listen," Hermione asks as fast as she can. "Tell me. Did he bite you or claw you? And where?"

Lily's teeth chatter when she tries to answer.

"Hip. Left hip. Don't know if… teeth or… claw…"

"Professor Slughorn, perform the _Vulnera Sanentur_, with the incantation. I'll go for help."

"But Madame Pomfrey is not at the school tonight. She's with…"

"It's not her I'm going to. Now, the incantation, professor."

Hermione runs as fast as when Harry and she ran from the fully transformed Werewolf in their third year, as fast as Harry, Ron and she ran from the snatchers when they were on their Horocrux hunt, as fast as when they ran for the door in the Room of Requirement when Vincent Crabbe had set it all on fire. By pure coincidence she knows where Severus's rooms are and, even better, they are just next to the Potions classroom. Hermione throws herself on the unassuming door and bellows his name.

The door remains closed, and not a sound is heard from within.

"Severus, please! Open up! I need your help. Lily has been attacked."

"What?!"

His voice doesn't come from inside his room, but from behind her, and Hermione realises that Severus has been in the Potions laboratory, even though it's Saturday night. She hears herself shriek in surprise but also in relief.

"You salve? Is it anywhere near useful yet? There was an accident, a terrible, terrible…"

Severus is just in front of her in two long strides. He locks her wrists in his hands and drowns her babbling with his voice.

"Teeth or claws?"

"Don't know. Claws, I think. If he'd been close enough with his teeth I would have been hurt, too."

"Come!"

Still with her wrists in his relentless grip Severus turns and hurries to the Potions classroom. He lets go of her on the threshold and quickly summons vials and small jars.

"Where is she?" he barks out to Hermione.

"The dungeons. Just below. Professor Slughorn is performing the _Vulnera Sanentur_.

"The full incantation? Singing it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He is close to her again, ready to go.

"And it's it, Hermione. If it had been close enough. Not he."

He sweeps past her and Hermione agrees. She'd agree to anything right now.

Hermione enters the dungeons a few seconds after Severus, but finds him already kneeling beside Lily, whispering spells which seems to calm both her and the blood flow.

"No!" James's voice is confused and angry. "Not you. Get the fuck…"

"Shut it, Potter!" Severus snarls. "I'll _crucio_ you if you don't shut it. You can't help her, but I can."

James looks away, the colour draining from his face. He still holds Lily in his arms but apparently he's given in to the inevitable that she needs Severus more than she needs him right now.

Hermione thinks she might die from the feeling that this somehow is her fault. It is her project, her responsibility.

_I was to save Lily, not getting her killed with my inadequate potion skills._

In her mind she goes over every alteration she has made with the Wolfsbane potion during the last month, weighing pros and cons about every ingredient.

"Hermione! For heaven's sake, come here. Help me. Potter's useless, not that I'm surprised."

The very muggle "for heaven's sake" from Severus's lips reminds Hermione of his background. He was brought up in muggle village, and now, in 1979, that isn't very long ago. She kneels next to him and does everything he tells her to do. Lily's jeans are cut open over her hip, and the wound there is horrifying. Professor Slughorn is still performing the incantation, but it isn't until Severus applies a colourless potion from a pipette at the same time as uttering incantations in a totally different language than Professor Slughorn that the blood stops oozing and the wound begins to close itself.

"No infection," Severus concludes. "This is a clawed wound, not a bite. Good Godric, Hermione, what the hell were you thinking, or better still, were you thinking at all? It's one thing if you want to sacrifice yourself on the wrong side of those fangs and to a life not worth living anymore, but do you really need to bring an audience? An unprepared audience? You could have been arrested for accessory to murder. I would personally have seen to that, you witless do-gooder."

"Mr Snape," Professor Slughorn interrupts but with less conviction than Hermione has ever heard. Through a veil of tears she suddenly sees the much older, much more tired and resigned Potions professor she knew 20 years later.

"No, he is right," she whispers. "I shouldn't have let Lily be here."

"Stop it," Lily whispers. "I wanted to. James has told me how well you have developed the Wolfsbane. I knew it wasn't ready, or complete, I just wanted to see a less aggressive transformation. If you had told me to stay away I would have fought you, Hermione. It was stupid and reckless, but I could see something of Remus in the wolf, and I let down my guard."

Severus still kneels next to them. He strokes Lily's hand with his head bowed. Hermione can see tears in his eyelashes, his anger defeated.

Sirius clears his throat.

"And Remus is still here. In this werewolf. I don't know what to do. Professor? Hermione?"

Professor Slughorn takes a few tentative steps towards the bundled up Werewolf. He trains his wand but hesitates.

"Are you going to do something, Horace, or just stand there and condemn me for my iron rings that barely let him breathe?" Sirius asks. He sounds like he used to do when Hermione was 15 and Sirius picked fights with anyone in the Order that didn't want to go to open war as much as he did.

Professor Slughorn makes up his mind. It is impossible to know if it is Sirius's use of his first name or the utter pain the Werewolf with its human amber eyes is in, but he utters a spell that makes the bundle of furious muscles relax and the desperate look in Remus's eyes go out.

"What?" Sirius asks bewildered. "What did you do?" When he lowers his own wand the metallic wire around the body on the floor disappears.

"An Avada without the Kedavra," Severus says from his position on the floor. "I was about to cast it myself."

"Thank Merlin, you didn't," says Professor Slughorn shakily. "If someone is going to Azkaban for an unforgivable curse tonight, let it be me."

"Technically, it isn't unforgivable," Severus says calmly. "Those rings, though, Black? Where the hell did they come from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sirius snarls. Then he thinks better of it and answers the question properly. "From my father's private book of curses. I stole it when I ran away from home."

"Hermione?"

Lily's voice is weak, and Hermione leans in to be able to hear her.

"Yes?"

"You saved me."

"No, Lily. Severus did. I almost got you killed."

Lily takes Hermione's hand with her right hand. Severus is still stroking her left, and Hermione can see that she holds on to him. She hopes James won't notice and raise hell again.

"No, the Werewolf almost killed me. I insisted to be here. You knew what to do. You got Severus, but who else in this room would have done that?"

She turns to Severus.

"Thank you, Severus. I owe you my life."

Severus bends his head so his dark hair covers his face. Hermione can still hear his words, but she hopes no one else in the room can.

"Any time. I'd do it any time. Always. I owed you my life first. It'll always be yours to what you want with."

James stirs behind Lily and the spell of heart-breaking honesty behind Severus's dark veil of hair is broken.

"What happens now?" James asks. "With Re… with the Werewolf?"

Professor Slughorn takes a deep breath.

"I will stay with him until the morning when the full moon disappears. It's not safe to keep him under this spell for longer than that."

"Safe for whom?" Sirius mutters darkly.

"Mr Lupin. He will be himself tomorrow, mentally, but not… physically. He is almost dead now. And tomorrow he will feel it."

James asks a question, but Hermione doesn't listen. Quietly she stands up and backs away from the scene. A lump as large as her heart blocks her wind-pipe, and a pain as raw as a _crucio_ curse grips her. Slowly she backs away. Only Severus notices, but she can't read the expression in his dark eyes. It could be compassion as well as hate. She can only see the hate. She leaves and as soon as she is out of the room she starts running. Someone calls her name behind her, and she runs even faster.

Out of breath and with blurry vision she undoes the last lock on the door to her rooms. She casts silencing spells the second the door closes behind her. Then she screams.

**Thanks for reading. Kia**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you for following my story. If you, this far into the story, really don't like it, please read something else rather than posting pointless, negative reviews. Just leave it instead for those who like it. As always, I'm so happy for most reviews, but it only takes one hurtful one to put me off my writing and posting.**

**Kia**

Sirius POW

At an early age Sirius learnt to make strategic choices, rather than emotional ones. With his dark upbringing but light school years, he is more than able to see the whole picture.

When he is calm. When his temper gets the better of him he is emotional, selfish, violent and reckless.

He has never felt so unsteady as he does now. He is not even sure what he feels. Anger? Oh yes. Fear? Undoubtedly. Guilt? Like boiling lead in the pit of his stomach. Anxiety? Like ants in his veins. Worry? Yes, worse than…

_Where is Hermione?_

He hears someone call her name, outside the dungeon they are in.

"Go, son," Professor Slughorn says.

The Professor leans against the wall with a grim expression. James and Lily sits curled up in the corner of the room. Remus… No, the Werewolf lies motionless on the floor. He breathes, barely.

"Can I get anyone, Professor?" Sirius asks. He doesn't recognise his own voice.

Professor Slughorn shakes his head before he lifts his wand, closes his eyes and conjures up his Patronus. A small, silvery fox, no longer than the professor's wand appears.

"Get Minerva," he whispers to the fox and Sirius watches it disappear through the wall.

Sirius collides with Severus in the door opening. He is prepared to bite back any tart comment from his Slytherin antagonist, but Severus mutters a low "Excuse me" and pushes past Sirius, back into the room. Sirius can imagine a number of unpleasantries to pass between James and Severus, but he can't stay. He doubts any of them will kill the other with Professor Slughorn present.

_Where are you, Hermione? Why did Snivellus call after you?_

The Gryffindor common room is empty. Sirius notices that it's just after one in the morning. He runs up the stairs to the boys' dorms, passes all the doors in a blur and stops in front of a mural. He mutters a password Remus has taught him, and the mural shifts into a tapestry. Behind the tapestry there is another, narrow flight of stairs, which leads to the upper floor where Remus and Hermione have their rooms.

The door to Hermione's room is locked. Not a sound is heard from within. He knocks hard on the door and calls her name, but it's still as quiet as a grave. Sirius is just about to turn around when he notices that the carpet outside the door is crumpled. It wasn't when Hermione and he left earlier. He closes his eyes and focuses on his canine personality, where his senses of hearing and smell are tuned finer and even blocks the disturbing taste of blood in his mouth.

_She is here. I can smell her. I can smell her fear and guilt. And I can smell Lily's blood._

A very low crying sound penetrates the silencing spells when Sirius listens like a dog. He knocks again, harder, bangs his fist against the hard oak.

"Open, Hermione! I need to see you. I need to see that you are…"

He is about to roar "OK" but stops himself.

"I need to see you. Please."

Nothing happens.

"I will take down your silencing spells and kick in the door if I have to. Open up now!"

With shaking fingers he draws his wand, still warm from the gruesome metal rings he conjured up to keep the Werewolf on the floor, and begins to take down the silencing spells he knows she is most likely to have used. He can hear her crying louder and roars to her to open again. When she doesn't he kicks the door, as hard as he can, but the dark oak doesn't budge an inch.

_"__Alohomora_," he mutters with his wand trained at the lock, and without any real conviction. Hermione would never lock her door with such easy mechanisms. He tries to reason with her through the thick wood.

"Go away!"

It's weak and shaky, but it is her voice. His mind goes blank, no Black.

_"__Bombarda!"_

When the smoke clears the resilient oak door lies splintered in pieces, its hinges glowing.

Hermione sits straight up in the bed, eyes wide open and red-rimmed.

"You bombarad my door?"

He is beside her and tries to touch her. She recoils.

"I'd blow up the whole fucking castle if I had to. Why did you run?"

She faces him from the other side of the bed, keeping a few feet between them.

"Oh, Sirius, why do you think? I can't stay. I have to leave. I can never see Lily in the eye again. Or Remus. Where is the Time Turner? Give it to me! I can't, I can never do what Minerva told me to do. I was to save Lily, not risk her life."

Sirius lunges at her, and throws his arms around her before she has a chance to pull away. He holds her hard against him and growls into her hair.

"No. I will not give you your Time Turner. I will not let you leave. You did save Lily. You have made progress. Remus agreed to be your lab rat. Slughorn was there. I was there. No one is blaming you."

"I do."

"Don't. It was an accident. We are all to blame. But I can't let you leave. You gave me your word you wouldn't leave me. Remember?"

"Yes," she sobs, "but why would you want me here? I almost got one of you best friends killed. I feel so guilty."

"We all do, love. But no one is blaming you, it's not your…"

A knock on the door, no, the doorframe, makes Sirius's head snap up. Severus Snape stands in the opening, looking down on the pile of splintered wood and shaking his head.

"Ever heard of knocking, Black? Or take "no" for an answer?"

Sirius can feel himself baring his teeth, in a canine anger, but before he can either growl or curse Severus speaks in his low, slow voice. His calm demeanour makes Sirius itch with rage and he holds Hermione as close as before.

"Black is right, Hermione. No one blames you. Personally I blame Slughorn. He should never have agreed to such a dangerous experiment inside the castle, not even on the grounds. You just can't help yourself, I guess. You just need to go for lost causes, like saving that freak of both a man and a Werewolf, Lupin. So very muggle, Hermione."

"So very decent, Snivellus," Sirius growls.

"I'm not speaking to you, fleabag. Can't decide whether you want to lick, bite or do any other canine, disgusting thing to her, can you? Keep you muzzle closed. Dog slobber leaves such nasty stains."

Severus comes closer and sits down on the edge of the bed. Sirius pulls his feet away, wanting as little contact as possible with the other man.

"What are you doing here?" he snarls.

"Not speaking to you, Black. If you need to play watchdog and she doesn't mind I'll try to endure your presence. If you down whine or howl."

Sirius can feel his arms around Hermione shake with restrained and angry humiliation. Only Severus can provoke him like this, with his calm drawl, knowing exactly which buttons to push to make Sirius do something he later regrets. But Severus won't provoke him more tonight. Severus acts as if Sirius isn't there at all. Like a person who doesn't like dogs behave around dogs.

"It wasn't your fault, Hermione. Slughorn knows well enough that Lupin is the most dangerous Werewolf for miles. Trying to be domesticated. Tsk! In areas with Werewolves people keep their doors locked during the full moon, and the monsters can't attack them. But here, we keep him inside, when we instead should let him roam the Forbidden Forest. There are enough creatures there to keep him in check."

"But he could get hurt," Hermione whispers.

"He could get killed," Severus says calmly. "I know I wouldn't miss him. Stop growling, Black. But, even if I really don't understand why you are so set on saving him, I can see the larger picture. We've spoken about this before. The whole population of Werewolves that would be bound by law to subject to treatment. Avoid the transformation, the loss of mind, the blood-thirst. They could contribute like the rest of us for a larger part of each month and, most of all, people, normal people, would not be at risk. The Ministry would have to keep records of all infected individuals, and if there were new attacks in their immediate neighbourhood the Aurors and magical gamekeepers all over Britain would know where to search. It could even be illegal not to submit to treatment."

_Fuck, he sounds sane. Not the keeping-records-thing, but the larger picture. This isn't about Remus, even though we need him to test the potion again and again and again._

"But we're not going to use Lupin anymore, Hermione." Sirius wonders if Severus can read his thoughts. "The next full moon we'll ask Hagrid to magically fence in a few real wolves in the Forest."

"We?" Hermione whispers.

Severus almost smiles.

"Yes, we. I've begun analysing the last of your potion. I think the rowan bark needs to be removed. I also have some other ideas. Will you come down and help? Discuss? Think outside the box? I'm sure we can have a sample ready in a month. Given to the wolves they ought to be able to obey as well as reasonably clever terriers, and be uninterested in bloody meat. You can bring the dog here if you want. He can advise us on mouth-watering smells for canines, if your presence doesn't confuse him too much."

Hermione reaches out and takes Severus's hand in her. Sirius cringes when he sees his long fingers curl around Hermione's blood-stained hand.

"You'll help me?" she whispers.

"Yes."

"But why?"

Severus leans back against the bed poster.

"Apparently my project is done. Tonight proves the formula for my salve and the concentrated essence work. I really wish the circumstances for the empirical test would have been different, but no one is more grateful than I that it worked. Now I'd like to work with something that might make my formula less needed. Mastering and conquering the Werewolves."

_He could very well have said "taming." But that is not what he wants. He wants to conquer. _

Hermione disentangles herself from Sirius's arms and stands up.

"Now?" she asks.

"Why not?" says Severus. "Sunday tomorrow. Or already."

Sirius sits stunned and watches Hermione and her damn potions colleague climb over the pile of splintered wood, away from him. If this is a nightmare they will leave him without a backward glance. Then Hermione turns to him.

"Coming?"

Sirius nods, at loss for words.

"Maybe you should work on your carpentry skills first. If you have any." Severus looks down on the oak, which is nothing more than firewood now. "You know where the Potion Room is, but fix the bloody door first."

Hermione gives Sirius a look he can't decipher. He knows she can work well with Severus. And he knows that Severus is very talented in Potions. A lot better than Sirius himself. And Hermione really needs a door.

"I'll be down later. To help, if I can."

When Hermione and Severus are just out of sight he thinks of something.

"Cinnamon!" he calls after them.

Severus surprised face appears in the empty doorframe. He looks at Sirius as if he were mad.

"What?"

"Cinnamon. I like… dogs like the scent of cinnamon. Not too much, just a hint."

"Won't it alter the taste?"

"Scent is more important than taste. Canine-ly speaking."

"Thank you, Black. I'll bear it in mind."

When the upper floor of Gryffindor tower is empty except for himself, Sirius goes in search of wooden objects possible to transform into a door. In a cupboard at the end of the corridor he finds several discarded picture frames. Absent-mindedly he transforms them into a door of the same size as the former, and fastens the hinges with some magic and a little more violence than is actually needed. He knows the spells, but he needs to bang something.

Later he goes down to the Potions Room. The door to it is open and spicy scents hang in the corridor. Silently he creeps close to the door and eavesdrops. Hermione and Severus are so boringly academic Sirius yawns, despite the adrenaline shock he suffered earlier.

After a long silence Severus asks Hermione a question in a completely different tone than before.

"Where would you go?"

"Excuse me?" she asks back.

"Earlier. You told Black that you would leave and he almost wet himself in fear."

"I can't talk about that, Severus. I overreacted. I won't leave."

"What the hell do you see in him, Hermione? He's old money, mediocre magical skills and an inclination for doglike behaviour."

_Well, thank you Snivellus, you fucking bastard!_

Hermione doesn't really answer and she says nothing to object to Severus's view on Sirius.

"Maybe what you see in Lily, Severus. Something that isn't obvious to everyone. But something that I, or you with Lily, can't fight. It might be love, might be obsession, but I could never leave. I think you know what it's like."

There is a long silence before Severus speaks again in his dry academic voice.

"Black mentioned cinnamon. Do you think he was serious about that?"

"If it has to do with this potion and helping Remus he certainly was. Don't be so hard on him, Severus. Not while we work on this. You can pick up your fight where you left it after we have found the perfect formula."

Severus sighs but doesn't answer.

* * *

Two months later, in the thin darkness of May, Sirius, Professor Slughorn, James, Peter, Lily, and Hagrid watch an agility show with adult wolves in a moon-lit clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione and Severus uses broccoli as treats and the large canines are as obedient as reasonably clever terriers, just like Severus predicted.

Hushed "wows!" and bright smiles serve as applause, and Professor Slughorn gives a little speech about how promising the formula seems, and congratulates both Hermione and Severus on their result.

"Professor Slughorn, would you like to test something?" Severus asks and the professor nods enthusiastically.

"In that box, but the large beech, is some raw meat. Bring it and open it with an _Alohomora_. Then try to lure one of the wolves to you. I'll keep my want trained at him if he would misbehave."

They all watch Professor Slughorn's movements, and he easily gets the attention of one of the larger wolves.

"Come on, boy! I have something for you. Come, come!"

Sirius can see that Professor Slughorn is quite a dog person, the wolf's interest is piqued by his soft voice. When the wolf is just next to the magical fence Professor Slughorn offers him a piece of raw beef. The wolf smells it, licks it and then turns away.

A Wolfsbane Potion as good as Damocles's lost formula is created. When tested on Remus it limits his transformation; still wolf-like, but not as pronounced. The blood-thirst is gone, replaced with some anxiety, which is treatable with Dreamless Sleep Potion. Remus sleeps through the full moon. When he wakes he is groggy, hungry and have a few aching muscles, but he is himself.

* * *

Professor Slughorn immediately wants to start producing the potion on a larger scale, and sell it under his own brand: Apothecarium of Horace E. F. Slughorn. He is prepared to give all credit for the potion's complex recipe to Hermione and Severus, but both tries to slow him down.

Hermione doesn't want her name to be on a commercial product, even though it is medicinal.

Severus has different reasons for his hesitation, but just as strong. Sirius listens when he explains to Professor Slughorn. They are all in the Potions Classroom on the last day of spring term. The Hogwarts Express will leave for London in a few hours.

"It's not that I don't trust the potion's effect. It is as good as it can possibly get at repressing the infection. But who in Britain would buy it, Professor? There aren't that many Werewolves like Lupin, if any. Werewolves that actually don't want that transformation and the pleasure of satisfying their thirst. What I suggest is that we hold on to this formula until the Ministry has agreed on a policy for controlling the Werewolves, and then we sell it to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They will pay and the potion will be used in a controlled and efficient way."

After some debating this, Slughorn agrees and turns to Hermione.

"What do you think, Miss Granger?"

"I don't want any business with the Ministry. My reasons for my research was primarily Remus, and then I hoped someone like you and Severus would make it accessible for others. If a Werewolves Policy by the Ministry is what it takes, I'm sure you can handle it."

"But the money, Miss Granger? There is money to be made here."

Sirius glances at Severus to see if he looks as exited at Professor Slughorn at the thought of money, but Severus looks just as unimpressed as usual.

"Then I trust you to use such a profit wisely and develop other potions the magic population of Britain needs. I realise you need to register this potion, and probably take out a patent in your name, both your names, but as long as I am allowed to brew this potion, and teach Remus and my friends to brew it, I don't need to be in the picture. I wouldn't have done it without you, Severus. Thank you."

Severus gives a little bow and a weak smile. Hermione continues.

"And I would also like your word that any of you will brew this potion to Remus if I'm not around, and make him take it. A Werewolf, even one as… as reluctant as Remus feels anticipation just before the full moon. If he is by himself he is not likely to take the potion, even if he has it, or has the possibilities to brew it."

Severus frowns but says nothing. Professor Slughorn easily agrees.

_Salazar's cursed emeralds, you are a greedy man, Horace. I know you're not exactly poor, you have a vault full of gold and dubious artefacts at Gringotts, but you can't get enough, can you?_

_But Severus, you are poor. I've seen your patched robes and cloaks, and your second-hand books, cauldron, bags, everything second-hand. Why don't you cheer and starts planning a brighter future? I always thought it was envy that drove you. I thought you wanted to be, no to have what I have. More money than I could ever spend. But I was wrong, obviously._

When they leave the Potions Classroom Professor Slughorn starts to chat to Sirius about his brother Regulus.

Sirius has not spoken to Regulus for more than a year. What he knows about his brother's business is purely from other people. Regulus is seen with members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and he is pro a strong Ministry. A controlling Ministry with its nose in everybody's business, not unlike what Severus wants.

"My brother and I don't really see eye to eye, Professor. I heard he was going to the sea, somewhere along the south coast this summer. Apparently he needs to bring our House-elf, Kreacher. I really don't keep track of him. Politically our differences are too large for such a detail as blood to unite us."

"Well, give him my best if you see him, Sirius. Now I must rush."

They all do. The Hogwarts Express waits for no one.

They have all been wrapped up in the research for the Wolfbane Potion during the spring. Sirius and James have worked hard at Auror training. The Ministry has suggested a new curriculum and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has approved it with surprising speed. It means a shorter summer holiday and harder training, but Sirius and James will be qualified Aurors at the end of the year.

Sirius glances at Peter who sits across him in the train compartment. He is worried about his friend. Peter seems withdrawn, hasn't come to Hogwarts very often. Peter says he is busy, taking care of his mother and minding a small Owl Post Office in Wales, but Sirius isn't convinced. He feels he, and James and Remus too for that matter, has neglected their friend. What would they have done without Peter's petite Animagus form during their school days? So many of their adventures, including keeping Remus in check during the full moon, would never have been possible without Peter. Sirius guesses Peter is jealous. James has Lily and Sirius has Hermione. Who wouldn't be jealous? But he has convinced Peter to come with them all to Godric's Hollow, and stay for at least a week.

Sirius takes Hermione's hand and looks out the window. The soft slopes of north England are so much greener than the craggy mountains and dark forests of Scotland. He can't believe how lucky he is. The year has passed in a blur of hard work and worry about the Wolfsbane Potion, but now they are suddenly on the brink of summer again, and she is still with him. Still his. He leans into her and whispers in her ear.

"Tonight there will be just the two of us in my uncle's cottage. I haven't been so alone with you for months."

"Weren't we alone last night? In my room in Gryffindor Tower? Don't tell me anyone else was there?"

"No, no. Not in your room, but across the corridor. Lily and James had a guest room, and so did Peter."

"But I locked the door, I'm sure I did."

He can see that she will start to giggle any second.

"But tonight I will have you all to myself in my… in our cottage. I hired someone to clean it for us."

"Mmm," she approves. "And what are your plans for such a secluded place, Sirius. With no one next door?"

Sirius leans in and nibbles the shell of her ear. He feels how difficult it for her to sit still.

"I will make you make those sounds that turn me on beyond my sanity," he whispers and delights in her low gasp and blushing cheeks.

**Thank you for reading. New chapter under editing.**


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